I ESADIKGS AHD .r«^'- 'S-£:^''% r-J^^ ^.v( ..u''/3. GIFT or Dr. Horace Ivie EDUCATION DEPT 0^7 !XS?V ^i^ ■f>^~ I ii^"' m'^^.,t xJ^Sfcli!^ %fr m;-'4 y'^\ >%^-'- 1> ^in "^ ' 'J>'-Sf','' ' ^y"'^ 'v%C." ^'yv''k;' ^\k^i^-^^^^ a. ^%r%7^^^. IBRlljNji OWiNl, ReaSiiig^, ReeitatnoTie., fIND \mpe.r&G>TiQ^{.\G>us>. BY EKMIKE OWEK. <'HAIK OF HISTORY AND ELOCUTION, North Missouri Slate Normal School. SECOND EDITION KiRKSVILLE, Mo. JOURNAL PRINTING COMPANY, 1893. GfFTdF Copyright, 1801, BY ERMINE OWE>. ebucATioN oe^ IN KINDLY REMEAABRANCE OF THE — STUDENTS OF THE NORTH MISSOURI STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, WITH WHOM FOR EIGHT YEARS I HAVE BEEN ASSOCIATED; WITH A PARTICULARLY PLEASANT REGARD FOR THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN MEMBERS OF MY ELOCUTION CLASSES ; AND IN HONEST SYMPATHY WITH ALL WHO ''WANT A PIECE TO SPEAK/' THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. KiRKSViLLE, Mo., Jan. i, 1891. 9S4217 TABLE OF TON TENTS. Apostrophe to Water 1\of. Fcn/uson 1 Corao, or My Tiger Lily Joaquin Miller :) The New South // W. Gradi/. (> * ' Margery " N. 7. OmphU' \) " Sharing Thanksgiving Dinner "... Mrs. Emma K Meg aire 13 Baby's Name School day Magazine I") The Fourth of July at Jonesville Josiah Allen's Wife. 10 The Voice of the Helpless Demm'eHt's Monthly. '22 The Gin Fiend 2:\ First Soliloquy of a Rutionalislic Chicken 2") The Sleep-walking Scene from "Macbeth ". . . .Shakespeare. 27 The Child-wife ...Charles Dickens. 27 Hiawatha's Wooing Longfellow. 33 The Famine Longfellow. 36 The Little Housekeeper 3!) The Present Age W. E. Channing. 41 Mr. Horner on Grumble Corner N. Y. Independent. 42 " Flight of the Angel Gabriel " Prof. Ferguson. 44 Baby George MacBonald. 45 J^othiug to Wear Wm. Allen Butler. 4G The Little Scheherezade 51 The Day of Peace E. T. Willet. 52 Uncrowned among the Nations. /. D. Finney. 56 Adown the Field Together. , Louise UpJiam. 58 " The World for Sale " Ralph Iloyt. 60 Thirteen and Dolly St. NicJiolas Magazine. 62 Edinburgh after Flodden W. E. Aytotin. 63 The Case of Mrs. Moll Harbour, in "Youth's Companion." 67 The Dolls' Tea Party 72 The Victory of the Frosts Avanelle Holomes. 73 Lost in the Sea Fog 75 vi TAIU.K OF CO A TENTS. CACK. The Cliai iol iiucc Oen. Lew WaU(ir/>. 77 Wluit Makes the Gmsse-j Grow? St. Nicholas Magazine, ^^•i. Tlic ricasmes of Hope Thomas Campbell. 6i IJoy Ki iliau ForceytJte Willson. H7 Tlie Full of Jerusalem Geo. Croly. 9<) The Hnrvtst Alice La Due. 98 The Song of Steam Q") The liricle of flic Greel^ Isle. .;.,.. Mrs. Ilemans. 97 Gates 100 The Race Problem Rejiri/ W. Grady. 102 Monnoii Wife Number Ooe, on the Arrival of Number Tweuly one /,./?. Cake. lOiI The Drenmhind Sea 108 Wee Joukydaidlcs James Smith. \{\x Lc Manage de Oonvcuaucc I^igh Hunt. UM ^\y Shii)8 at Sea Ella Wheeler Wilro.t. 1 1 2 The Baby's Pillow Mrs. S. T. Perry. 1 13 A Madman's Manuscript Charles Dickem. 114 Before antl After School Wiode hland SchoolmatsUr. 118 Woman and the Rose James Stewart. 119 Twickenham Ferry 121 Robin 121 Aunty Doleful's Visit to Her Sick Friend 12.1 A Legend of Martha's Vineyard 127 King of Caudy-Land Youth's Companion. 130 1 Love, You Love 1 80 The Province of History fames Ridpath. 181 Look Not upon the Wine \yheii It Is Red. . . . L. R. Phelps. 134 The Cheap Jack Charles Dickfus. 13o Tlie March of Time W. S. WaU^tr. 141 The Children and the Angel Ceorge B. Griffith. 143 The Gmndarae's Story Mrs. Henry. 144 The Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille I^ngf'elloir. loO How Ruby Played the Piano Geo. Wm. Ragby. l.Vi Napoleon 158 The Gospel Harpoon Homiletic Review. 1«0 Inasmuch Mary Glen. l&Z A King among Meu Harriet M. Sp^ivlding. IC") Elsie's Thanksgiving Margaret K. SaugxU-r. Ifi5 The Graveyanl of the Ages. 1«8 Mrs. Leo Hunter Chorl'^ /vw./... v 1 70 TABLE OF CONTENTS. vii PAGE. The Elf-child - Jcane^s W/uicomb Riley. 173 Macbeth and the Dagger Shakespeare 174 Hamlet Ex-Oov. Davis of Minnesota. 175 Mhacles 177 The Battle ScMller. 179 Mansie Wauch at the Play David Moir. 181 The Runaway Princess Emily H. Miller. 183 The Fate of Nina and Rienzi Adapted from Bulwer's " Last of the Tribunes." 186 The Child on the Judgment Seat Mrs. Elizabeth Charles. 188 May Days Waverly Magazine. 191 The Conquered Banner Father Ryan. 193 Robert E. Lee B. H. Hill. 195 The Puritans Macaulay. 195 Artist and Peasant Fannie L. Fancher. 198 Marse Phil Tliomas Nelson Page. 199 A Little Mistake /. McDermott, in "■ Youth's Companion." 201 North and South OecyrgeG. Vest. 203 Pansy Blossom. 204 To the Memory of S. S. Cox W.J. Stone. 206 Gettysburg George William Curtis. 207 Jack Frost's Little Sister YouUCs Companion. 209 A Democracy Hateful to Philip Demosthenes. 210 The End of the Play Wm. M. Thackeray. 212 Brutus on the Death of Caesar Shakespeare. 214 Autumn S. U. Dent. 215 What Constitutes a State ? Sir William Jones. 216 Baby Boys 217 Glaucus in the Roman Arena Adapted from Bulwer's " La^t Days of Pompeii." 218 Nydia Adapted from Bulwer's " Last Days of Pompeii." 221 At "The Literary" Jam£8 Whitcomb Riley, in^ " Century Magazine." 234 Sent Back by the Angels Langbridge, in " T'he Voice Magazine." 206 Naughty Girl 231 The Way to Sleeptown 6'. W. Foss. 234 Iinph-m James Nicholson. 235 A Secret Lizzie M ITadley. 237 'I'he Stars and Stripes B JL Hill. 238 The Little Gnome Laura Richards, in " St. Nicholas." •-*40 viii TABLE OF CONTENTS. PACK. Rob, the Pauper Will Carletou. 242 Buckingham Foiled Sir WalUr ScolL 246 A Dream of Fair Women .... Adapted from Tennyson's ''Dream of Fair Women." 853 Index .,, 259 PBEFAOK This " Collection of Recitations " has, for its ap« pearance, the same reasons that books of this order usually have — the necessities and experiences of the class-room. Partly for my own convenience, but more par- ticularly in response to the continual call made by students for something to recite, I iiave been in- duced to prepare the present work, and to present in an orderly collection a part of the large number of literary gems that have accumulated on my hands during my experience as a teacher. To the habit of clipping from newspapers and magazines, preserving political speeches and other articles of merit in my private scrap-books, I am in- debted for many of the rare selections here found. This does not imply, however, that they are old and hackneyed, or have *' lost their savor." On the con- trary, many of the pieces appear for the first time in the form of a declamation, and in some cases hundreds of pages have been read in order to secure a recita- tion of, perhaps, not more than three pages. Students will appreciate the fact that much of this work has been done amid the arduous demands of the class- room ; and will derive an added pleasure in recogniz- ing those selections which have won the medals in the various contests. PREFACE. Recitations suitable for children are also given, with the desire of making this book a valuable and effective aid to both teacher and pupil in Friday afternoon exercises and evening entertainments. While I feel justilied in calling this a new book, I have not omitted some of those masterpieces of eloquence which, though old, never lose their interest, nor grow stale by repetition. EuMiNE Owen, Chair of Uistorij and Elocution, North Mo. State Normal School VOICE C U LTIJ-RE' 'M& '■' READING. Heading is the act of the mind in getting thought from the printed page. The all important habit for the pupil to form is that of never supposing that a sentence has been read before the thought it suggests is clear in his mind. J5^/ocwf /on is the art of expressing thought and feel- ing by speech. Elecution is intelligence; expression IS power. The primary object of elocutionary training is to develop the power of interpreting language in the simplest manner, with the least effort and with the greatest effect. PRINCIPLE I. The primary essentials of good reading and speak- ing are — 1. A clear understanding, and a keen appreciation of the thought or sentiment to he expressed. One can never make a truth apply with force to others unless he feels its application to himself; he must be able to enter into the jo}^ the grief, the enthusiasm, the in- dignation of others as if it were his own. Right thinking hud feeling is the surest road to right speaking and acting. 2. Control of the breath. Proper breathing is the foundation of all voice work. Control of the breath is essential to easy, comfortable speaking. One who speaks with great effort soon wearies his audience as well as himself. A true artist never show^s effort. xii VOICE CULTURE 3. A f.orrtct voice:, . which is distinguished by its purity, power, flex ibillt(^. The voice is pure when all the brvi2ntb e:yhalod in producing the vowels is vocal- ized r.nd wjion all har-djuesn and harshness is remov- ed from it. The voice is flexible when it has ac- quired the power to bend without breaking; — can sweep from pitch to pitch; from quality to quality without the chopping process. The vocal chords must acquire a certain mechanical dexterity before the beautiful conceptions we possess can be communicat- ed to others. Mechanism is an essential part of all the fine arts. Above everything, cultivate the voice. It is God's best gift to man. The cultured voice is sure to be reflex in its action; for culture permeates the entire man. See to it that your voice attracts rather than repels. Far before the eyes, or the mouth or the habitual gesture as a revelation of character is the quality of the voice and the manner of using it. It is the first thing that strikes us in a new acquaintance, and it is one of the most unerr- ing tests of good breeding and education. The voice is much more indicative of the state of the mind than many people know or allow. One of the first symptoms of failing brain power is indistinct or confused utterance. No idiot has a clear or melodi- ous voice. The harsh scream of mania is proverbial, and no person of prompt or decided thought hesitates or stutters. 4. Distinct articulation and enunciation in order to be heard. ^ 5. Right emphasis in order i(^ndcrstood. 0. Right expression — appropriate tone color and in- flection — in order to he felt. PRINCIPLE II. All expression in nature and art depends upon some kind of light and shade, as of form — (architect- ure), color (painting), or sound — (music and elocu- tion). For the lights and shades of elocution '^we >t AND READING. have these elements: force, emphasis, pitch, volume, quality, inflection, rate, stress Mark Bailey. PKINCIPLE III. Force is the degree oi intensity with which sound is ^^ ;^uttered and may be thus classified: 1. Subdued. Force. -{ 2. Moderate. 3. Energetic Impassioned. Expressing solemn, pa- thetic and tranquil thought. Expressing unemotional thought, narrtive, di- dactic, etc. Strong emotion, excite- ment, grandeur. I Diff*erent thoughts, feelings and emotions demand diff'erent degrees of force. It is plain, therefore, that a perfect command of every degree of force is neces- sary to excellence in expression. Force is partly a physical product and partly mental. It is the life of oratory which gives it breath and fire and power. It is the electrical current which smites, penetrates and thrills. Mere noise or physical exertion should not be mistaken for force. True force includes the idea of moral power and is often more manifest in a certain stateliness of tone than in great exhibitions of voice and manner. Example of Suhdued Force. His few surviving comrades saw His smile, when rang their proud hui'rah xiv VOICE CULTL'RE And the red field was won; Then saw in death his eyelids close, Camly as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun. Exawple of Moderate Force. Give, oh give ns the man who sings at his work. He will do more in the same tinie: he will do it bet- ter; he will persev^ere longer. One is scarcely sensi- ble of fatiglie whilst one marches to music. The very stars are said to make harmony as they revolve in their spheres. Wondrous is the strength of cheer- fulness; altogether past calculation its powers of en- durance. Effort, to be permanently useful, raust be uniformly joj-ous. A spirit all sunshine — graceful from very gladness — beautffnl because bright! Example of Iinpassioncd Force. And if thou saidst I am not peer To any lord in Scrotland here, Lowland or highland, far or near. Lord Angus, thou hast Jied! PRINCIPLE IV. Every sentence has its emphatic word or words, which are disiinctiveiy the iJtought words. Right em- phasis is good expression. It is the soul ot elocu- tion, the vital breath of artistic rendition. It is the crucial test of good reading. Emphasis or the want of it may alter completel}^ the meaning of words. If a man saj' softly to himself as he goes down the street — "fire, fire, fire," even those who hear him will not heed him. But if he lift up his voice and shout — firel fire! FIRE! — that means something to the point. Men who have stirred their generation have been men of emphasis. And for him who sat by the chimney lug. Doz'mi] and (jnunblituj o'er pipe and mug. A manly form at her side she saw, And joy was dnty, and love was law. AND READING. ' xv PEINCIPLE Y. A perfect command of pitch is esseutial to ^ood reading and speaking, because different tones ex- press and awaken different thoughts and emotions. God has so attuned our natures that a low, deep tone suggests reverence and devotion. The lowest tones, awe and dread. High pitch, excited, enthusiastic, ov joy- ous feeling. The middle key, unimpassioned thought. To properly express these emotions, the reader or speaker must be able to vary his pitch at pleasure. More public speakers fail from an incorrect use of pitch than from any other cause. E.vample of High Pitch. ''''Come back, come back, Iloratius!" Loud cried the fathers all. ^'Back LartiusFback Herminius! Back, ere the ruins fall!'' - v • Example Low Pitch. There's a burden ot grief on ttie bre'ezes of spring, And a sohg of regret from the bird on its wing; There's a pall on the sunshine and over the flowers, And a shadow of grief oh these spirits of our?.J|j^j, PRINCIPLE VI. The voice rises by grades when the succession of clauses or phrases implies an increasing interest of any sort. The voice falls by grades after an ascending series or when anything in the sentiment implies, or re- quires a falling climax. Example 1. Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting, Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing, And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping. And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing. xvi VOICE CULTURE All at once and all o'er with a mighty uproar, And this way the water comes down at Ladore! Example 2. How they were attacked, how they resisted, how they were encompassed, how they thruft back those who were hurled on them in the black night, ^ith the north sea wind like ice upon their faces, and the loose African sand drifting up in clouds around them ; how they breasted the fence of steel, and the tempest of rage and blows and shouts, and plunged away into the shadows of the desolate plain, and into the slaughterous fury of the rising wind-storm, they could never quite recall. PKINCIPLE YII. Volume is the fullness or thinness of tone used. Moderate volume is appropriate for unemotional read- ing. Thin voluMe for weakness, affectation, etc. Full volume is an essential element in the expression of noble sentiments. Full volume magnifies, thin volume minifies expression. E^vample of Full Volume. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lifted up ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in! Who is this King of Glory? The Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift th«m up ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in! Who is this King of Glory? The Lord of hosts; he is the King, the King of Glwy! "^PEINCIPLE VIIL Quality has reference to the kind of tone as pure or aspirated. When all the breath exhaled in making a vowel sound is vocalized and all harshness remov- ed from it, the tone is pure in quality, — otherwise it is impure. Quality may be classified as follows. Each quality is distinguished by its resonamr, or the place from which the sound seen^s to come. rs/Ui\r//\cXj.^^ READING. xvii f f 1. J ^ H F c Tone — Eesonance in the center of the nnouth. I Pure J '^' ^""^^^"^ — Resonance in the upper part of the chest. I 3. Oral — Resonance in the front part of the mouth. 1^4. Falsetto — Resonance in the head. 5» I f 1. Aspirate — The whisper. T I 2. Nasal — Resonance in the nose. I ^ 1 3- Pectoral — Resonance in the upper part ot throat. (^ [4. Gutteral — Resonance in the lower part of throat. Pure Tone is the quality appropriate for descriptive and conversational reading. Example. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, — trip- pingly on the tonsjue; but if you mouth it as many of our players do, I had as lief the to\vn-3rier spike my line?, Sait the action to the word; the word to the action; with this special observance — that you overstep not the modesty of nature. The Orotund is the highest perfection of the culti- vated voice. It is known by its roundness, fullness, richness and sonorous character. It is used in ex- pressions of grandeur, sublimity, courage, patriot- ism, etc. Example. ^ And when I am forgotten as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble where no mention Of me more must be heard of,^say I taught thee; Say, Wolsey — that once trod the ways of glory. And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor — Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; A sure and a safe one though thy master missed it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition. By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his maker, hope to win by it? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate ther; Corruption wins not more than honesty; Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's Thy God's and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. xviii VOICE CULTURE The Oral is appropriate for expressions of weakness, exhaustion, affectation and the like. Example. But don'Ll see a pretty church-yard over there? Kiss me father; kiss me twice, dear father, and lay me down to rest upon that church- yard grass, so soft and green. TJie Falsetto is used for mimicry, for echoes and for calls that have come from a distance. Uxa?}vple. "Hie over, hie over! you man of the ferry!" By the still waters side she mocked in her voice Sweet and merry. "Hie over, hie over, you man of — you man of the ferry!" The Aspirate, is appropriate for secret thought, fear, etc. Example. Alack, I am afraid they have awaked And 'tis not done! The attempt and not the deed Confounds us! Hark! I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss them. Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done't! The Pectoral and the Guttural qualities are used for the expression of hate, scorn, contempt, dread, anger, revenge, defiance and horror. Example—Pectoral. Now o'er the one half world Nature seems dead; and wicked dreams abuse The curtained sleep; now witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offering; and withered murder With stealthy pace toward his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps which way they walk, for fonr Thy very stones prate of my whereabouts And take the present horror from the time That now suits with it. AND READING. xix Example— Guttural. Clarence is come, — false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, — That stabbed me in the field of Tewksburj-; Sieze on him, furies, take him to your torments! The Nasal, is appropriate for burlesque and mirrucry. Example. The birds can fly and why cant 1? Must we give in that the blue bird An' phoebe are smarter'n we be? Jest fold our hands, an' see the swaller An' black bird an' cat bird beat us holler? PRINCIPLE IX. Rate is the rapidity with which words and sen- tences are uttered. It includes not only the length of time occupied in the utterance of words, but the pauses between the words, and sentences. It is in reality, a combination of quantity and pauses. Rate is an element of immense power and wonderful effect when properly employed. Every mood of mind, every variety of emotion, every burst of passion has its appropriate movement. Solemni'y and pathos move slowly. Joy and enthusiasm rapidly, arsjument moder- ately, and excitement hurriedly. The effect of rate is forcibly illustrated in the slow, measured step of the funeral march, the swift movement of the merry dance, and the firm but moderate step of the deter- mined army. Example foT Rapid Rate. It was a neck to neck race once more. A roar like the roar of the sea broke from the breathless crowd. Ten thousand throats rang as thrice ten thousand eyes watched the closing contest. The gigantic Chestnut with every massive sinew strained and swelled, side by side with the marvelous grace, the shining flanks, and Arabian-like head of Forest King. On they flew like the flash of an electric flame; their breath hot in each others nostrils, while the dark" earth flew beneath their stride. Now they near the black, deep, yawning stream, twelve feet if an inch, with a high thorn hedge beyond it. One touch of the spur, and Forest King rose at the leap, higher, and XX VOICE CULTURE higher, and higher in the cold wild winter wind; stakes and rails and water and thorn lay beneath him, black and yawing like a grave. One last convulsive impulse of the gathered limbs, one bound in mid-air, and Forest King was over. Example of Slow Rate. It must be s(> — Plato, thou reason'st well! — Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread and inward horror Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction? — *Tis the divinity that stirs within up; 'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man. Eternity! — thou pleasing dreadful thought! Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes and changes must we pass! The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Here wull I hold. If there's a Power above us — And that there is, all nature cries aloud Through all her works — He must delight in virtue; And that which He delights in must be happy. But when? or where? PRINCIPLE X. Inflections are those peculiar slides or waves of the voice heard on the emphatic words or syllables, and constitute the most distinctive part of emphasis and expression. Inflection indicates the state of the speaker's mind; it has nothing to do with the gram- matical construction of the sentence. Positiveness takes the falling slide — as 1. I will not hear thee speak. 2. Thou art the man. AND READING. xxi Negatives ideus: — doubtfulness, uncertainty, timid- ity deference to the will of another, take the rising glide — as 1. Where are you going^ my pretty maid? 2. Are you sure of it? If a negative idea be contrasted with a positive idea, both slides are used. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. To express what is insinuated or double in mean- ing, such as iron^^ and sarcasm we have the com- pound inflection known as the rising circumflex, which is negative in nature, and the falling circumflex, which is positive in character. V 1. Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf, A A But that he sees the Roniam are are but shee]) V A He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. 2. Do you think for one moment that I fear you^ Fear you! A A A You hothouse Jlower, you si\\eT p^ieasant, who never did ought but spread your dainty colors in the sun, and never earned so much as A A the right to eat a piece of black bread, if you had your deserts. You A beautiful, useless, painted, exotic, that has every wind tempered to V A A ^ you, and thinks the world only made to bear the fall of your dainty A foot! xxii VOICE CULTURE PEINCIPLE XL Emphasis is simple force. Stress is ibe manner of applying^^UAiJacAA. You may emphasize the right ^W^Fabut nrrt in the right way, that is, not give it the proper stress. There are six forms of stress, known by the following names and characteristics: IN READING. IN MUSIC. 1. Kadlcal (initial) > Explosive. 2. Median (middle) <> Swell. 3. Terminal (final) < Crescendo. 4. Thorough (through) = Organ tone. 5. Compound (composed of two) >< 6. Intermittent (broken) Tremulo. The radical stress^ as the sign or character indicates^ is somewhat explosive in its nature. It may be used in light, or conversational reading; and when judiciously done, lends life and sparkle to what tcould otherwise be dull, thus giving clearness and decision to the utterance. It is also used in abrupt or startling emotion, and in the expression of positive convictions. Great care should be taken in the use of this stress, to avoid the tendency to the high, light, narrow, con- tracted tones so often used upon the platform when addressing large audiences, thinking it necessary to raise the pitch of the voice instead of increasing the power. The prevailing school-room tone is a fair sample of the radical stress mi&applied. The voice is pitched so high as to make it cold and disagreea- ble in its quality, being simply a statement of facts, without any heart-element in it, and much less vital- ity. This arises largely from the fact that the schools develop the mental at the expense of the moral (heart) and vital (body) growth. Exawple 1. ♦♦To arms! to arms? to arms! they cry, Grasp the shield and draw the sword; AND READING. xxiii Lead us to Phillipa*slord: Let us conquer him or diel*' Example 2. Insects generally, must lead a jovial life. Think what it must be to lodge in a lily. Imagine a palace of ivory and pearl, with pillars of silver and spires of gold, and exhaling such a perfume as never arose from human censer. Fancy, again the fun of tucldng one's self up for the night in the folds of a rose, rocked to sleep by the gentle sighs of summer air, and nothing to do when you awake, but to wash yourself in a dewdrop, and fall to eating your bed clothes. The median stress, as the character indicates, is caused by swelling the tone in the centre of the sound of the word to be emphasized. This represents the moral or heart-element and should penetrate all oth- ers. A statement of facts — exclusively mental — is, of itself, cold and heartless. The purely mental deals with the details; the moral and the vital, never. The median stress should be used in all selections of an emotional nature. Its use in conversation shows culture and refinement; the lack of it is a sure indi- cation of the lack of refinement. Example 1. "Flower in the crannied wall I pluck you out of the crannies: Hold you here, root and all, in my hand Little flower — but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is." Exam,ple2. Only their deeds and names are ours — but for a century yet, The dead who fell at Gettysburg the land shall not forget. God send us peace! and where for aye the loved and lost recline Let fall, O South, your leaves of palm, — O North, your sprigs of pine. xxiv VOICE CULTURE The Final JStress, as tbe character indicates is abrupt at the close of the sound. Tt is vital in its nature and is used to express determined purpose, stern rebuke, horror, revenge, hate and similar passions. Blaze with your serried coluinnh! I will not bend the knee; The shackle ne'er again shall bind the arm which now is free! I ne'er will ask for quarter, and I ne'tr will be your slave; But I'll swim the sea of slaughter till I sink beneath the wavel The Thorough Stress as the character indicates is a fullness and steadiness of tone used in calling or shouting to such a distance as to necessitate a pro- longed or sustained volume of voice. E.vamples. 1 . Boat ahoy ! 2. Forward the Light Brigade! 3. Strike — till tbe last armed foe expires! The Intermittent Stress, as the character indicates, is broken. It is indicative of sadness, weakness, ex- treme tenderness, extreme joy. E.vample. 1. Oh! then I see queen Mab hath been with you. She comes in shape no bigger than an agate stone, On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn by a team of little antomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep, 2. Dead! one of them shot by the sea in the east. And one of them shot in the west by the sea. Dead! both my boys! when you sit at the feast, And are wanting a great song for Italy free Let none look at me. Compound Stress, is as the character indicates, a combination of the radical and terminal stress. It is closely allied to the circumflex, and like it is used to express contempt, irony, sarcasm and similar emo- tions. AND READING. xxtr Example. **But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Csasar cried 'Help me, Cassiup, or I sink!' "And this man V A Is now become a god; and Cassius is A A wretched creature, and must bend his body, A If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And, when the fit was on him, I did mark A A A How he did shake; 't is true, this god did shake: A A His c«ward lips did from their color fly; V And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, A Did lose its lustre. I did hear him groan; Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, Alas! it cried, 'Give me some drink, Titinius,' A As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, A A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world And bear the palmalono! If in addition to the complete mastery and perfect illus- tration of the foregoing principles; one hsiS imagination ^ xivi VOICE CULTURE feeling, artistic skill, and, above all, common sense, such an one may hope to become an expressive, effective and pleasing reader or speaker. There must be a lively imagination, combined with artistic skill. The picture must not only be clear and distinct in the mind of the reader but he must be able to hold it up before his audience as if it were on a canvass, a perfect picture, with perfect lights and shades. The judgment must be sound else bombast may be mistaken for eloquence, rant for true feeling, and perspiration for inspiration. Finally, common sense in reading, as in everything else is a most desirable acquisition. He who hag it not, 'though his voice be as strong as that of a lion, as gentle as that of a dove, will never please.'' ELOCUTIONARY MAXIMS. " There is in souls a sympatliy with sounds." Campbell, " Give me no more of body tlian shows soul." Browning. " Do not mistake perspiration for inspiration." Warm an. "There must be impression before there can be expression." Delsarte. '* Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with tliis special observance, that you overstep not the modesty of nature." Shakespeare. *' Voices must go deeper into us than other things. I have often fancied heaven might be made of voices." George Eliot. *' The angels judge of man's feelings by the tones of his voice. Of his thoughts by his articulation." Sioedenhorci . "A stiff uniformity of speech is not only displeasing to the ear, but disappointing in its every effect." Beiter(on. " Action is the predominant power in eloquence, and its chief and most desirable advantage lies in a good voice." Cicero, READINGS, RECITATIONS, AND IMPERSONATIONS. APOSTROPHE TO WATER. We read of " the wine That smacks of the vine That grows by the beaiUifui river" — But oh, did you ever consider the glories of God's pure water? Tiie scieuiist, looking back over the history of our planer, traces, with admiration, the part which water liaih })layed in the great drama of life — beautiful life upon the earth. Surely it liath been the busiest thing in all this worhl of ours. Evaporated again and again, it has si)ed as on angel Avings to and fro 'iwixt earth and heaven, on its mission of love and goodness. Now down to the roots of the grasses it hath gone, to pump u[j the green chloropliyll that paints tlieii* delicate fronds: then upon thestuibeams' path of gold it hath climbed to the very clouds to paint the bow of beauty on tiie sky, and to come down to earth again freighted with corn and with abundance ; now down into the earth it goes to pump up the sweet juices that fill the apple fountain, and flake its delicate covering witli ruby and russet and brown ; now cooling the brow of the sufferer when the fier}^ fever is upon him ; then up to the very heavens again to float in mighty conti- nents of clouds to and fro over the earth ; now 2 UK A />/A7;.s, /,' HCl TA TIOXS, resting upon the brow of ilie bajdized babe: now down into the ocean depLhs, wliere tlie nionslei'8 of the deep are kenneled ; tlieii u[) on silver winj^s it liath flown to its home in the sky, to Hit along eiuudy corridors of day, like some fair spirit winging its way to the celestial city ; now wreathing the beanti- ful bridal veil that adorns fair blushing June; now weaving the snowy winding-sheet that drapes the dying year; now flashing in the dew-drop; now fall- ing in the rain ; now fretting the daii^ty frostwork upon the window-pane ; now playing its harp jliiolian in the far-off depths of the meadow; now thundering in the billows that break upon the shore. Thus on, ever on, in its unwearying work it has gone ; never resting, never lingering, never fainting on the way, this mighty toiler of the ages hath builded up the beauty and strength of this fair world of ours. Surely it hath been the Master Builder of the Ages ; pulling down old continents that have fulfilled their da}', and building up better and brighter, while flinging over their stony steeps the mantle of the beautiful. For aught we know the very water in that goblet formed a part of the original creation ; that it saw the glories of Creation's morning and heard the voice of Him who said, ''Let there be light!" It looked upon the world when like a lovely jewel it first flashed fi'om the Creator's fingers. For aught we know the water now flashing in that goblet may have stood in sparkling dew upon Eden's first flowers, or rested upon the brow of beautiful Eve, when, suffused with blushes, and with pleasure, she stood for the first time befoie her lordly husband. For aught we know it may have formed a portion of those very drops that i)attered on the roof of the ark, or formed the bow of promise that g'*P3ted the eyes of the old [)aLriarch when he came forth witii liis strange caravan, or rested on the brow of the ba]^tized Jesus, when he came up from Jordan's wave; and on, ever on, ihe^^ will go in their mi wearying woik, until at AND IMPKliSONATIONS. 3 last tliey form u portion of that cloud on w liich IJe will appear " when He cometii to judge the world."' Oh water I beautiful water I Heaven's beiiisoiis rest upon thee I Thy home is in tiie sky I — far up in the l)eautiful blue, where angels walk in robes of starry light. Thou comest to the eaitii in many a fairy form of icicle and frosted snow. And when, in the music of soft spring rain, 1 hear the patter of thy tiny feet upon my wdndow-pane, I bless thee, for thou art full of corn and abundance. Thou comest to earth on a mission of love, flowers s[)ring up in thy footprints. Wherever thou goest over the earth it is as though an angel had shaken his glitteiing- })inions and lieaven's own dew and sunlight had fallen around. Everything that breathes doth bless thee! Eighteen hundred years have rolled around, since some Oscan beauty took thee from the spark- ling spring, to bathe her dark e3'es, or wash the dust from her black tresses, when, heated with love-making and the sight of blood, she came by night from the arena of the gladiators. Tliough eighteen hundred years have passed away since thou wast taken from thy mountain home, yet thou art crystal pure ; — as pure to slake tlie thirst of the Neapolitan as ever thou wast that of Diomede, or Glaucus, or Nydia the Flower Girl. Oh water ! — beautiful water I Heaven's benisons rest upon thee ! — Frof. Ferguson. COMO, OR MY TIGER LILY. The red-clad fishers row and creep, Below the crags, as half asleep. Nor ever make a single sound. The walls are steep, the waves are deep, And if a dead man should be found. Why, who shall say but lie was drowned? 4 HE A I) isa s, . n kci t. i rioxs. The lakes lay bright as bits ot broken moon Just newly set within tlie cloven earth. The ripened fields drew round a golden girth Far up the steeps and glittered in the noon. And when the sun fell down from leafy shore, Fond lovers stole in pairs to ply the oar. The stars as large as lilies flecked the bhie, From t)ie Alps the moon came wheeling through The rocky pass the great Napoleon knew. A gala niglit it was — the seasons prime, We rode from castled lake to festal town. To fair Milan. My friend and I, rode down By night, when grasses waved in rij)pled rhyme, And so, wliat tliemc but love at such a time? His prou'vl iii) curled the while with silent scorn At thought of love, a:id then as one forlorn He siglicd. tiicn bared his temples dashed with gray. Then morked — as one cutwc rn and well blasd. A gorgeous tiger lily — flaming red, So full of battle — of the trumpet's flare, Of old-time passion — upreared its head — I galloped past — I leaned — I clutched it — Then From out the long, strong grass I held it high And cried : " Lo, this to-night shall deck her hair, Through all the dance : And mark ! tlie man shall die Who dares assault for good or ill design The Citadel where I shall set tliis sign." He spoke no spare word all the after while. That scornful, cohl, contemptuous smile of his ! And in the hall the same old hateful smile ! Why, better men have died for less insult than this I Then marvel not that when she graced the floor, With all the beauties gathered from the four Far quarters of the earth, and in her midniglit hair My tiger lily — marvel not — I say, » That he glared like some wild beast well at bay. AND IMPIJUSONATIONS. 5 Oh! she shone fairer than summer star Or curled sweet moon in middle destiny. Oh, have you loved and truly loved, and seen Aught else the while but your own stately queen? Her presence it was majesty — so tall — Her proud development encompassed all — She filled ail space, I sought, 1 saw but her. I followed as some fervid worshipper. Adown the dance she moved with matchless grace, The world — my world moved with her ! Suddeidy, I questioned who her cavalier might be. 'Twas he ! his face was leaning to her face. I clutched my blade. I sprang, I caught my breath, And so stood leaning, cold, and still as death. And they stood still. She blushed, then reached and tore The lily as she passed. All round the floor She strewed its iieart like bits of gushing gore. 'Twas he said, '' heads not hearts were made to break." He taught me this that night in splendid scorn. I learned too well. The dance was done — Ere morn We mounted — he and I, but no more spoke — And this for woman's love ! My lily, worn In her dark hair in pride — to then be torn And trampled on for this bold stranger's sake! Two men rode silent back toward the lake, Two men rode silent down — but only one Rode up at morn to meet the rising sun. The walls are steep, the crags shall keep Their everlasting watch profound. The walls are steep, the waves are deep — And if a dead man should be found By red clad fishers in their round, Why, who shall say but he was drowned ? Joaquin Miller* 6 HEADINGS, HECITATIONS, THE NEW SOUTH. '' There was a South of shivery and secession, — that South is dead. — Tliere is a South of union and freedom, — that South, thank God, is living, bieatliing, growing every hour." Dr. Tahnage has drawn for you with a master's liand the picture of your returning armies. How, in the pomp and circumstance of war, they came back to 3'ou, with proud and victorious tread, reading their glory in a nation's eyes ! I will tell you of another army tliat sought its home at tlie close of tlie late war — an army that marched home in defeat and not in victory — in j^atlios and not in splendor, but in glory that equalled yours, and to hearts as loving as ever welcon:ied heroes home. Think of tlie foot-sore Con- federate soldier, as ragged, half-starved, he turned Ins face southward from Appomattox, in April, 1865. Having fought to exhaustion, he surrenders his gun, wrings the hands of his comrades in silence, and lifting his tear-stained and pallid face for the last time to the graves that dot the old Virginia hills, pulls his gray cap over his brow, and begins the slow and painful journey.- Wliat does he iind? answer, you, who went to your homes eager to find in the wel- come you had justly earned, full payment for four years' sacrifice. He finds the home he left so pros- perous and b(Miuiit'ul in ruins, his fiirni devastated, his slaves free, his l);irn emptv, his inoney worthless, his social svsU'Ui, ft'udal in its magnificence, .swept away, his comrades slain, and the burdens of others heavy on his shoulders. Crusheti by drfeat, his very tra- ditions are gone. What does he do — this hero in gray with heart of gold? Si I down in sullenness and despair? not for a day. Surely iu^d. mIio has stripped him of his j)ros- perity, inspired hiiu in his ad\ers;iy. Uestoration AND IMPERSONATIONS. 7 was swift. The soldier stepped from the trendies into the furrow : horses tliat had charoed federal guns inarched before the plow, and lields that ran red with liurnan blood in April, were green with harvest in June, and there was little bitterness in all this. Bill Arp struck the key-note when he said, " Well, I killed as many of them as they did of me ; and now I am going to work, and if the Yankees fool with me any more I will whip 'em again." Never was nobler duty confided to human hands than the uplifting and upbuilding of the prostrate and bleeding South, misguided perhaps, but beautiful in her suffering — honest, brave, and generous always. When Lee surrendered, the South became, and has since been loyal to this Uni^n. She fought hard enough to know she was whipped, and in the toad's head of defeat she found her jewel. The shackles that had held lier in narrow limitations fell forever, when the shackles of the negro slave were broken. Under the old regime, the negroes were slaves to the South, the South was a slave to the system. The old South rested everything on slavery and agriculture, unconscious that these could neither give nor main- tain healthy growth. The new South presents a per- fect democracy — a social system compact, and closely knitted, less splendid on the surface, but stronger at the core, a hundred farms for every plan- tation, fifty homes for every palace. The new South is enamored of her work. Her soul is stirred with the breath of a new life. The light of a grander day is falling fair on her face. She is thrilling with the consciousness of glowing power and prosperity, as she stands upright and full statured, breathing the keen air and looking out upon the expanding horizon, she understands that her emancipation came because in the inscrutable wisdom of God her honest purpose was crossed and herbrave armies were beaten. The South has nothing for which to apologize. 8 READINGS, IIECITATIONS, She believes that the hite struggle between the States was war and not rebellion, revolution and not conspiracy, and that her convictions were as lionest as yours. She lias nothing to take back. In my native town of Athens is a monument tliat cr(»wnsiis central hills — a plain, white shaft. Deep cut into its shining side is a name dear to me above the names of men, — that of a brave an'd simple man, who died in brave nnd simple failli. Not for all the glories of New Pviigland, from Plymouth liock all the way down, would I exchange the heritage he left me in liis soldier's death. To the foot of that shaft 1 shad send my children's children to reverence him who ennobled their names with his heroic blood. But, sir, speaking from the shadow of that memory, wliich 1 honor as I do nothing else on earth, I say that the cause in which lie suffered, and for which he gave liis life, was adjudged by liigher and fuller wisdom than his or mine. And I am glad that the omnis- cient God held the balance of battle in His Almighty hand ; that human slavery was swept from the American soil, and the American union saved from the wreck of war. This message, Mr. President, comes to you from consecrated ground. The very soil of the State of Georgia is as sacred as a battle ground of the Ile{)ub- lic,aiul hallowed to you by the blood of your brothers, ■who died for your victory, and hallowed to us by the blood of those, who died hopeless, but undaunted in defeat — sacred soil to all of us — rich with memories that make us purer and stronger and better. Speak- ing, an eloquent witness in its white peace and pros- perity to the indissoluble union of the American States and the imperishable brotherhood of the American people. Now what answer has New England to this mes- sage ? Will she permit the prejudice of war to re- main in the hearts of the conquerors wiien it has died in the hearts of the conquered ? Will she transmit this prejudice to tiie next generation that in their AND IMPERSONATIONS. 9 hearts which never felt tlie geJierous ardor of con- flict it may perpetuate itself? Will she withiiold, save in strained courtesy, the hand which straigliD from his soldier's heart Graut offered to J^eo at Ap- pomattox? Will siie make tlie vision of a restored and iuippy people, which gatheied about the couch of your dying captain, filling his heart with grace, totiching his lips with praise aud glorifying his path to the grave — will she make this vision, on which the last sigli of his expiring sonl breathed a benediction, a delusion and a cheat ? If she does, the South must accept with dignity its refusal. If she does not, then standing, heart to heart and clasping hands, we will remain citizens of the same country ; members of the same government, all united now and united forever. — IL W. Qrady, « MARGERY." {Prize Recitation^ June, 1S87. N. Mo. State Normal.) I met my brother at the train And kissed him welcome home again, O, I was proud his face to scan — Home from the dreadful Rapidan ! Two years had passed — two years that day Since he had led his men away ; Bright o'er his head the banner streamed, Bright on his sword the sunlight gleamed. We saw them, faintly througli our tears. We heard them send back answering cheers ; And now, in flush of joy and pride. Once more I had him at my side. Across the green we strolled along. And all the air seemed full of song. As happy hundreds flocked about Rejoicing in the muster out. Just then a wail fell on the ear — A wail it thrilled the soul to hear — 10 READINGS, RECITATIONS, " Charley ! Charley ! Come home to me ! Come home to me ! " " What's that ? " cried Tom, and clutched my arm As it to hold me back from harm — " What is that dreadful wailing, Kate? Wretched — heart-broken — desolate ! " " Why Tom," said I, " that's Margery Hall, We all have learned her hopeless call, She married Charley just the day Before his regiment marclied away ; At Christmas he would come again, He said, as fled the flying train. She waited trembling for the hour And prayed that God would give her power To bear the burden of her joy When she should greet her gallant boy. How sluggishly the dull months passed I But all the days crept by at last And Cliristmas morning came ; she drest In all her brightest things and best, And ran to see the train come in. Oh ! Here upon this bulletin She read : ' Killed by a rifle ball In charge on Wagner — Sergeant Hall.' " She fell and lay as she were dead, And then it was her reason fled ; On this one point — on others sane — She looks for Charley home again. She watches near this bulletin Each time the trains come in. She never smiles, she never weeps, But still her tearless vigil keeps. And always says ; ' He's on the way, And he is due at home — to-day ! ' And gazes at the morning sun Counting her fingers, one by one. AND IMPERSONATIONS, 11 O, it is pitiful to see How grandly patient she can be ; She preens lierself with ribbons rare And braids fresh roses in her hair, Then with serene and tranquil brow Sings, Tom, just as you hear her now: ' Charley ! Charley ! Come home to me ! Come home to me !'* *'Poor girl," said Tom, and shook his head; "Poor girl— for Sergeant Hall is dead. I saw him on that fearful night ; He was the foremost in the fight The Colonel called for men to leap And storm Fort Wagner up the steep: One stepped out first, alert and tall, And grasped the colors — Sergeant Hall. As he was waiting there, he set Above the flag a silk rosette, And then he smiled and said to me, *For lovG; home and Margery ! ' Tliey faced the storm of shot and shell And sprang into that blazing hell — ' Forward ! ' I seem to see them yet ; The flag is on the parapet. It waves exultant on the crest, Falls inward ! — God knows the rest ! Poor fellow ! — where the squadron wheeled, I saw him buried on the field ! " As brother Tom rehearsed the tale I marked beyond him, wan and pale, Poor ^largely bending close to hear, And then she shouted, loud and clear : " Charley ! Charley ! Come home to me ! Come home to me I " " I saw a similar name to-day," Said Tom, " There is a man, they say, Whose name is Hall, and went from hers Has been in Andersonville a year ; 12 READINGS, RECITATIONS. Is now escaped, unci on his way " A shout ! A stalwart man. Haggard and grim, and brown with tan, Came bursting through the startled crowd And swung liis arms, and cried aloud ; " Stand back ! I hear her sweet voice call I Where's Margery ? I am Sergeant Halll '* O, joy too great for life ! one cry She uttered, piercing, wild and high. Then all unconscious, dropped to rest, Pallid and pulseless on his breast. To rest ! To rest ! Her eyelids close ; Her weary soul has found repose. How calm her face ! How peaceful there The roses sleep within her hair I Her weary waiting all is o'er. Her gallant boy she'll greet no more. Till there upon that brighter shore, Again he'll clasp her — heart to heart, Eejoicing in the muster out. Till then from the parapet of Heaven, She'll call unto him, morn and eve : " Charley ! Charley ! Come home to me I Come home to me ! " K Y, araphio. " SHARING THANKSGIVING DINNER." All ! yes, it was hard, and what made it harder, Was poor Granny's sickness. A destitute larder — Thanksgiving Day here and no prospect ahead Of a Thanksgiving feast — what wonder that Ned, Who'd learned a few things in Dame Poverty's school (Could whistle when hungry, if that was the rule), AND IMPERSOy Allocs. 13 What wonder his courage had quite given way, With Granny unable to get up that day ? He sat on the steps where the sunbeams could find him, His jacket was thin, and the small room behind Was chill, lacking fire. The poor child sat musing, Like wise philosophers, like them abusing The power which to some offers only distresses, While others less worthy gain fortune's caresses. His heart grew rebellious, and Granny's good teaching Was fading away ; just as he was reaching The point wliere blind fate takes the place of God's will-^ To the grown, malcontent ; to Ned, it was still Just poor folk's had luck — 'twas just then Granny said, *'Why are you so quiet? Come here to me, Ned.'* The old voice was feeble ; the face was serene With patience and hope, but tlie boy's troubled mien Gave pain to the kind heart. '* Kneel here by my bed. And ask the dear Father to send us some bread." " And turkey and jelly ? " cried Ned, hungrily, " Ah ! just as He pleases that portion must be, But bread He has promised, that promise we plead. And He will feed us wlio the ravens doth feed." Ned's petition was o'er, he again sought the sun. With a crust from the cupboard — alas ! the last one.. But now a sweet fragrance pervaded the air; A fragrance unnoticed before the short prayer. Attracted by odors tliat tlirilled his starved senses, He sniffed like a blood-hound, then leaping the fences That shut in tlie farm-house of rich neighbor Moore, Quick gained he the back-yard. The kitchen's wide door U UK AD ma. 'J, liLCfTATIONS, Stood ajar, thus disclosiu^^- a glimpse, to the child Of dinner pieparing tliut set iiim half wild. One was beating fresh eggs, one stirring white cake. While turkey and chicken stood ready to bake. Pumpkin-pies, rich and spicy, were ranged side by side. With an odorous mass in the pudding-bag tied. While gazing and longing, behold, the Moore geese Had gathered around liim, to capture a piece Of tlie crust lie still held. He shoved them away But eagerly still they returned to the fray. Till, liow, who can tell us ? one goose most alert Had knocked down and trampled his crust in tli© dirt. A cry of despair! All the dinner he had In a moment was gone, the poor little lad Fell prone on the ground in a passion of grief ; Too crazed to observe that the prayed-for-relief Was here at his hand, or that old farmer Moore Had watched the whole scene from his sitting-room door. "Hello! what's the matter ! Come ; get up my lad, The f/oose stole your dinner? Well, now, that's too bad ! You don't mean to say all the dinner you had ? Well, well, which goose was it? That one by the fence ; He shall pay for it then ; and since he's ]io sense To restore what ho stole, my poor little man. Do you just take the goose, and then yoti can i)lan To get back your dinner the best w^ay you can." He led the child wondering before Grandma Moore : "This'child is lialf starved, wife, and right at our door : Thanksgiving to us, yes, but think, can it be A liappy Thanksgiving to poor widow Lee?*' AND IMPEliSOXATIONS. 15 '' God forgive iiie, I pi'ny," the good woman said, "For iiegiecting the widow and poor little Ned. ?vly joy was so great that I clean, clean forgot Tlie sorrow and hunger about nie. For wliat, With George home from college and Nanny's new baby. My lieart's brimming over with thaiddulness. Maybe It's not too late yet."' Well, before you could ask it A liappy-faced boy and a bountiful basket. Each idled witli the best by dear, kind Grandma Moore, Were lielping each other toward Granny Lee*s door : 'Twas turkey and jelly — but wluit need to say ? 'Twas more than Ned dreamed of for Thanksgiving Day, And we all must admit that Ned was the winner When he ate up the goose to get back his dinner. Mrs. Emma U. Meguire. BABY'S NAME. I would like to know the baby's name, if there is one can tell it. But I haven't seen a person yet, who could begin to spell it, rd like to give the child a present, a fork or spoon, you know. But it ought to have initials on it, that's what pro- vokes me so, But its father calls it " Popsy's tarlin," "e'tweetents and e'deary Mustn't pull e tishes so on Popsy's head e geary." Its mother calls it " Itty amtin." '' Peshus ilty teshure Wassa masser itty vu ? Mamma's pitty peshure ! " 16 HEADINGS, HECITAriONS, And all the children call it "Tweet ! " " turn to itty buvver ! Nevey mindey, don't e ty, it tan do to muvver! " And all its aunties say it is, ''a pessus itty teeter ! A itty 'ump of 'ovviness, an nuffin tan be feeter!" Its grandma says, " Of all e pets in all e wairl so Avide ; A is'nt one so dood as iss, so brave and dignified! " Now is there one can tell me wliat all this gibberish means ? Nothing but nonsense for his pains, is what an uncle gleans, But if you can tell the baby's name from all that you have heard. You'll have an uncle's heartfelt thanks if you'll please to send him word. School-daij Magazine, THE FOURTH OF JULY AT JONESVILLE. The celebration was held in Josiah's sugarbush, an' I meant to be on the ground in good season ; for when I have jobs I dread, I'm for takiu 'em by the forelock, an' graplin' witli 'em at once. But as I was bakin' my last j)lum-puddin' an' chicken- pie, tlie folks begun to stream by. I'd no idee so many folks could be scairt up in Jonesville. Thinks I to myself, I wonder if they'd flock out that way to a prayer-meetin'. But they kep' a comin', all kinds of folks in all kinds of vehicles, from a six horse team, down to peaceable lookin' men au' wimmou drawin' baby-wagons. There was a stagiu' built in 'most the center of the grove for the leadin' men of Jonesville, and some board seats all round it for the folks to set on. As Josiah owned tlie ground lie was invited to set up onto the stagin' an' as I glanced up at that man Ai\I) IMPERSONATIONS. 17 every little while throughout the da}', thinks I proudly to myselt", "There may be nobler lookin' nieu there, and men that would weigh more by the steelyards, but there hain't a man there that's got on a whiter shirt bosom than Josiah Allen has." About noon Prof. Aspire Todd walked slowly into the ground arm-in-arm with the editor of "The Gimlet," old Mr. Bobbet follerin' close behind. As they stepped up onto the stagin' the band struck up " Hail to the chief, that in triumph advances," as soon as it stopped playin' the editor came forrard an' said : " Fellow-citizens of Jonesville, and the ad- jacent and surroundin' country, I have the honor of introducin' to you the orator of the day — Prof. Aspire Todd, Esq." Prof. Todd then came forrard and made a low bow : "Brethren and sisters of Jonesville, friends and patrons of Liberty, in mountin' upon this theater I have thereby signified my desire and willingness to address you. I am not here, fellow-citizens, to outrage your feelins' by triflin' remarks. I am not here, male patrons, to lead your noble, and you, female patrons, your tender, footsteps into the flowery fields of use- less rhetorical eloquence. I am not here, I trust, in mephitical, and I hope not in a mentorial manner. But I am here to present a few plain truths, in a manner suitable to the most illimitable comprehen- sion. My friends, we are, in one sense, but tenni- folious blossoms of life; or if you ^vill pardon the tergiversation, we are all but mineratin' tennirosters hoverin' upon an illinition of mythoplasm." "Jess so ! " shouted old Bobbet — who was a settin' on a bench right under the speaker's stand — " Jess so ! so we be ! '' Prof. Todd looked down on him in a troubled kind of a way, an' then went on : " If we are content to moulder out our existence like fibrous veticulated polypus, clingin' to the crustaceous courts of custom, if we cling not like soarin' prytanes to the phantoms that lower their scepters down through the murky 18 READINGS, liECITATlONS, waves of retrogression, endeavoriu' to lure us upward in the scale of progressive bein' — in what degree do we differ from tlie acalphia ? Let us, then, noble brethren, in the broad lield of liunianit}', let us rise. Let us prove that mind is superior to matter — Let us prove ourselves superior to the acalphia." " Yes, less prove ourselves." Prof. Todd stopped stone still, an' liis face got as red as blood, lie drinked several swallers of water and then went on till most the last, when he wanted the people of Jonesville to " drown black care in the deep waters of oblivion, not mind her mad throes of dissolvin' bein', but let the deep waters cover her black liead an' march onward ! " and then the old gentle- man forgot himself, an' jumped right up and liollered out — " Yes, drown the black cat ! Hold lier head under ! There'll be cats enough left after she's gone ! Do as he tells ye — drown the black cat ! " The next speaker was a large healthy-look in' man who talked against wimmen's ricfhts. He didn't brinor o o o up no new argyments but talked jest as they all do who oi)pose 'em — about wimmen outragin' and de- stroyin' their modesty, by bein' seen in the same street with a man once every 'lection da}-. He talked grand about how woman's weakness, aroused all the shivelry an' nobility of amau'snatei* ! and how it was his dearest and most sacred })rivilege an' ]ia[)[)incss to pertect her from even a summer's breeze, if it should dare to blow too hard onto her beloved and delicate form. Why, before he liad got through, a stranger from another world, who liadn't never seen a Avoman, wouldn't a' had the least idea that they was made out of the same kind of clay that a man was, but lie'd a' thought they was made out o' some sort o' thin gauze, which was liable to blow away au}^ minute, an' that man's only employment was to stand an' watch 'em for fear some zei)hyr'd get tlie advantage of 'em. He called wimmen' every i)retty name he could think of, an' says he, a wavin' his hands in a rapid eloquence, "shall these weak, helpless creatures, these angels. AND IMPERSONATIONS. 19 these seraphims, these sweetly cooiii' doves, whose only mission is to sweetly coo — shall these rainbows, tliese posies vote ? Never I my brethren, will we lay such hardships onto them. Never, never, never! *' Just as the folks was a concludin' their frantic cheers over his speech, a thin, feeble-lookin' woman come by where 1 sat, drawin' a large baby-wagon with two children in it. She also carried one in lier arms, that was lame. She looked so beat out, and so ready to drop down, that I got up and gave her my seat, and says I, " You look ready to fall down." " Am I too late — to hear — my husband's — speech ? " '' Is that your husband that's a laughin' an' talkin' with that air prelty gal up there ? " " Yes." " Wall, he's jest finished." She looked ready to cry. An' as I took the lame child out of her breakin' arms, says I, " This is too much for you, mum." " Oh," says she, '' I wouldn't mind gettin' 'em onto the ground ; I hain't hed only three miles to bring 'em. That wouldn't be much if it wasn't for the work I hed to do before I come." " AVhy, what did you liave to do ? " " Oh, I hed to fix him off, an' brush his clothes, an' black his boots ; and then I did up all my work, an' then I hed to go out and lay up six lengths o' fence. The cattla got into the corn yesterday and he was so busy writin' his piece he conhln't fix it — -and then I hed to mend his thick coat, in the wagon there, he didn't know but ho should Avant it to wear home. He knew he wasgoin' to make agreat exertion to-day and he thought he should sweat some, lie's dietful easy to take cold." *' Why didn't he help you along with these 'ere children ! " says T. '' Oh, he said he had to make a great effort, an' he wanted to have his mind fi-ee and clear. He is one of the kind that can't have their minds trammeled." ''It would do him good to be trammeled hard." " Oh, nium, don't speak so of him." 20 READINGS, liECITATIONS, " Are you satisfied with his doin's ? " " Oh, yes. You would too, mum, if you knew how beautiful he can talk." I said no more ; for it is a rule of my life, not to make no disturbances in families. But the looks I cast at him and that air pretty gal, was cold enough to a' froze 'em both into a male and female glazier. The editor then came forward and said, " Before we leave this festive grove, I am requested to announce that a poem will be read by one of the fair young ladies of our town, which is dedicated to the God- dess of Liberty." Sophrony Gowdey then came for- rard an' recited the follerin' lines. " Before all causes East or West, I love the Liberty cause the best, I love its cheerful greetin's. No joys on earth can e'er compare With those pure pleasures that we share At Jonesville Liberty greetin's meetin't— - Greet no, — raeetin's. At Jonesville Liberty meetin's. To all the world I give my liand, My heart is with that chosen band, The Jonesville Liberty Brothers — The Jonesville Liberty Brothers — May every land preserved be, Each land that dotes on Liberty, Jonesville before all others." Lawyer Nugent thengot up and said: "That whereas— the speakin' was now foreclosed, he mo- tioned they should adjourn sine die to the dinner table. The dinner was good, but there Avas an awful crowd round the tables an' I was glad I wore my old lawn dress ; for the children was thick, and so was the bread and butter an' sass of all kinds. I jest plunged right into the heat o' the battle, as you may say, an' the spots on my dress skirt would a' been too much for anybody that couldn't count forty. There was a number o' pieces o' toast drunk durin' dinner. I can't remember 'em all, but among 'em was these : '• Tlve Eagle of Liberty t — may her quilli AND IMPERSONATIONS. 21 lengthen till tlie proud shadder of her wings shall sweetly rest on every land." " The 4th of July : — The star which our fathers tore from the ferocious mane of the howling lion of England, and set in tlie calm and majestic brow of E riiuibus Unum. May it gleam brighter and brighter, till the lion shall hide his dazzled eyes and cower like a stricken lamb at the feet of E Pluribus." The last piece o' toast was Lawyer Nugent's, an' I s'i)Ose when he got it off, he thought lie was a gettin' off suLliin' great. ''The fair sect: — First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of their country- men. May them that love the aforesaid flourish like a green bay berry tree ; whereas — niay them that hate 'em dwindle down into as near nuthin' as the bunnits of the aforesaid." I went home a little while before the picnic broke, an' if there ever was a beat-out creetur, I was. I jest drapped my dilapidated form into a rocking-chair, an says I, " There needn't be another word said ; I'll never go to another 4th o' July as long as my name is Josiah Allen's Wife." " You haint patriotic enough, Samantha, you don't love your country." " What good's it done to the country to hev me all torn to pieces ? Look at my dress ! Look at my bun nit and cape ! Anj^body ought to be iron-clad to stand it ! Look, at my dishes," says L " I guess the old heroes of the Revolution went through more'n that." " Wall, I hain't an old hero." " Wall, ye can honor 'em, can't ye? " " Honor 'em ! Josiah Allen, what good's it done to old Mr. Lafayette to hev my new earthen pie-plates all smashed to bits? What good has it done to Tliomas Jefferson to have my lawn dress torn off me this way ? What honor has it been to George Wash- ington to have my straw bunnit flatted down tight to my head? I am sick of all this talk about honorin' these old heroes, and goin' through all these li EA DIS (J .% liECI TA TIOK - performances to })lea.se 'em; fer if they're in Jieaveri they can get along without hearin' the Jonesville brass band phiy, and if they ain't tliey are probably where fireworks hain't much of a rarity. — Josiah Allen's Wife. THE VOICE OF THE HELPLESS. I hear a wail from the woodland ; A cry from the forests dim ; A sound of woe from the sweet hedge-row, From the willows and reeds that rim The sedgy pools ; from the meadow grass, I hear the fitful cry, alas ! It drowns the throb of music, The laughter of childhood sweet, It seems to rise to the very skies, As I walk the crowded street ; When I wait on God in the house of prayer, 1 hear the sad wail even there. 'Tis the cry of the orphaned nestlings, 'Tis the wail of the bird that sings His song of grace in the archer's face ; 'Tis the flutter of broken wings ; 'Tis the voice of lielplessness — tlie cry Of many a woodland tragedy. O, lovely, unthinking maiden, The wing that adorns your hat Has the radiance rare, that God placed there. But I see in the place of that, A mockery pitiful, deep, and sad. Of all things happy and glad. 1 mothei*, you clasp your darling, Close to your loving breast ; Think of that other, that tender mother, Brooding upon her nestl AND IMPERSONATIONS. 23 In the little cliirp from the field, and wood, Does no sonnd touch your motherhood? Tliafc little dead bird on your bonnet, Is it worth the cruel wrong ; The beauty you wear so proudly there, Is the price of the silenced song ; The humming bird band on your velvet dress Mocks your womanly tenderness. I hear a cry from the woodbind, A voice from the forest dim ; A sound of woe from the sweet hedgerow, From the willows and reeds that rim The sedgy pool ; from the meadow grass I hear the pitiful sound, alas ! Can you not hear it, my sister, Above the heartless behest, Of fashion that stands, with cruel hands. Despoiling the songful nest ? Above the voice have you never heard The voice of the helpless, hunted bird ? Demoresfs Monthly, THE GIN FIEND. The Uin Fiend cast his eyes abroad, And look'd o'er all the land, And number'd his myriad worshippers With his bird-like, long right hand. He took his place in the teeming street, And watched the people go ; Around and about, with a buzz and a shout, Forever to and fro ; 24 READINGS, liECITATIONS, " And it's hip ! *' said the Gin Fiend, "hip, hurra I For the multitudes I see, Who offer themselves in siicnfice. And die for tlie love of me ! " II. There stood a woman on a bridge, She was old, but not witli years — Old with excess, and passion, and pain. And she wept remorseful tears As she gave to her babe her milkless breast ; Then, goaded by its cry. Made a desperate leap in the river deep, In the sight of the passers-by ! "And it's hip !" said tlie Gin Fiend, "hip, hurra I She sinks ; — but let her be ! In life or death, whatever she did. Was all for the love of me ! " III. There watcli'd another by the hearth. With sullen face and thin ; She utter'd words of scorn and hate To one that stagger'd in. Long had she watcli'd, and when he came His thoughts were bent on blood ; lie could not brook her taunting look. And he slew her where she stood. " And it's hip ! " said the Gin Fiend, " hip, hurra I My right good friend is he ; He hath slain his wife, he hath given his life, And all for the love of me ! " IV. And every day, in the crowded way. He takes his fearful stand. And numbers Ids myriad worshippers With his bird-like, long right hand; AND impj::hsomations. 25 And every day, the weak and strong, Widows, and maids, and wives, Blood-wann, blood-cold, young men and old, Offer the Fiend their lives. "And it's hip ! " he says, ^' hip ! liip ! hurra ! For the multitudes I see ; That sell their souls for the burning drink, And die for the love of me ! " FIRST SOLILOQUY OF A RATIONALISTIC CHICKEN. Most strange ! most queer ! Though so excellent a change ! Shades of the prison house, ye disappear ; My fettered thouglits have won a wider range And like my legs are free. Free now, to pry and poke and peep and peer, And make these mysteries out. Shall a free-lhinking chicken live in doubt? Yet now in doubt undoubtedly I am. This problem's very lieavy on my mind. And I'm not one to either shirk or sham, I won't be blinded, and I won't be blind. Now let me see. First I would know How I did get in there, then Where was I of yore ? Besides, why didn't I get out before ? Dear me ! Here are three puzzles Out of plenty more. Enough to give me pip upon the brain, But let me think again, How do I know I ever was inside ? Now I reflect, it is, I do maintain, Less than my reason and beneath my pride To think that I could dwell In such a paltry, miserable cell As that old shell. 26 READINGS, It EC IT AT IONS, Of course I couldn't. How could I have been Body and beak and feather, legs and wings. And my deep heart's sublime imaginings In there ? I meet the notion with profound disdain, It's quite incredible, and I declare — And I'm a chicken you can't deceive — What I can't understand I won't believe. Where did I come from then ? Ah, where indeed ! That is a riddle monstrous hard to read, I have it ! Why, of course, All things are molded by some plastic force. Out of some atom, somewhere up in space. Fortuitously concurrent anyhow, There now, that's plain As the beak upon my face. What's that I hear ? My mother cackling at me? Just her way So ignorant and prejudiced, I say. So far behind the wisdom of the day. What's old, I can't revere. Hark at her ! " You're a silly chick, my dear. That's quite as plain, alack, As is the piece of shell upon your back ! '* How bigoted ! Upon my back indeed I I don't believe it's there ! For I can't see it. And I do declare, For all her fond deceivin', What I can't see^ I never will believe in, And that's all I AND IJirJi^U^SUSA I'lONS. 21 THE SLEEP-WALKING SCENE FROM ^' MACBETH." (Enter Lady Macbeth rubbing her hayids.') Yet here's a spot ! Out ! out, damned spot ! out, I say ! One, — two, — why then 'tis time to do it ! Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier and afeard ? What need we fear who knows it, when there's none can call our power to account ? — Yet who would liave thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? The Thane of Fife liad a wife — Where is she now ? What ! Will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that ! my lord, no more o' that ! You mar all with this starting ! Here's the smell of the blood still! All the per- fumes of Arabia cannot sweeten this little hand ! Oh ! oh ! oh : Wash your hands ! put on your night-gown ! look not so pale ! I tell you yet again Banquo's buried ! He cannot come out of his grave I To bed ! to bed ! There's knocking at the gate ! Come, come, come ! Give me your hand ! What's done cannot be un- done ! To bed ! To bed ! To bed I — HUake^feare, THE CHILD-WIFE. {Prize Selection, Jane, 1SS8, K. Mo. State Normal) All this time I had gone on loving Dora liarder than ever. If I may so express it, I was steeped in Dora. I was not merely over head and cars in love with her, I was saturated through and tlirougli. 1 took night walks to Norwood where sh.e lived, and j)erainbulated round aixl round the house :ind garden for hours toofether : lookino- throuqh crevices in the 28 READINGS, llECITATIONS, palings, using violent exertions to get my chin above the rusty nails on top, blowing kisses at the liglits in the windows and roniantiealiy calling on the night to shield my Dora, — I don't exactly know from what, — I suppose from mice, to whicli ^lie had a great ob- jection. Dora had a discreet friend whose name was Miss Mills. Dora called her Julia. She was the bosom fiiend of Dora. Happy Miss Mills ! One day she said to me: '^Dora is coming to stay with me. She is coming the day aftei' to-morrow. Jf you would like to call, I am sure papa would be happy to see yoiu" I spent three days in a luxury of wretchedness. At last arrayed for the purpose at a vast expense, I went to Miss Mills's fraught with a declaration. J.Ir. Mills was not at home. 1 didn't expect he would be. Nobody wanted ///w. Miss Mills was at home. And 1 was shown into a room where she and Dora were. Dora's little dog Jip was there. Miss Mills was copy- ing music and Dora was painting flowers. What were my feelings when I recognized flowers I had given her ! Miss Mills was very glad to see me, and very sorry her papa was not at home, though I tliought we all bore that with fortitude. Miss Mills was conver- sational for a few minutes then got up and left the room. I began to think I would put it off till to-morrow. " I hope your poor horse was not tired when he got home from that picnic," said Dora, lifting up her beautiful eyes. " It was a long way for him." I began to think I would do it to-day. ''It was a long way for him, for he had nothing to u}>liold him on his journey." '' Wasn't he fed, poor thing?" I began to think I would put it off till to-morrow. '* Ye — yes, he was well taken care of. I mean lie had not the unutterable happiness that I had in being so near to you." I saw now that I was in for it, and it must be done on the spot. AND IMPElitiONATIONS. 29 "I don't know why you should care for being near me, or Avhy you should call it a happiness. But of course you don't mean wliat you say. Jip, you nauglity boy, come here I " I don't know how 1 did it, but I did it in a minute. I intercepted Jip. I had Dora in my arms. I was full of ek)quence. I never stopped for a word. I told her how 1 loved her. 1 told lier I should die without her. I told her that I idolized and worshipped her. Jip barked madly all the time, but my elo- quence increased, and I said if she would like me to die for her, she had but to say the word and I was ready. I had loved her to distraction every minute, day and niglit, since I first set eyes upon her. I loved her at that minute to distraction. I should always love her ever\^ minute to distraction. Lovers had loved before, and lovers would love again ; but no lover had ever loved, might, could, would or should love as I loved Dora. The more I raved the more Jip barked. Each of us in his own way got more mad every minute. Well, well : Dora and I were sitting on the sofa, by and by quiet enough, and Jip was lying in her lap winking peacefully at me. It Avas off my mind. I was in a state of perfect rapture. Dora and I were engaged. Being poor, I felt it necessary the next time I went to my darling to expatiate upon that un- fortunate drawback. I soon carried desolation into the bosom of our joys — not that I meant to do it, but that I was so full of the subject — by asking Dora without the smallest preparation if she could love a beggar. " How can you ask me anything so foolish ? Love a beggar ! " " Dora, my own dearest, I am a beggar ! " *' How can you be such a silly thing as to sit there telling such stories ? I'll make Jip bite you if you are so ridiculous." But I looked so serious that Dora began to cry. 30 UK A DINGS, liEClTATlONS, She (lid riothiiig but exclaim, Oh, dear! Oh, dear! And oil, she was so frightened I and where was Julia Mills? And oh, take her to Julia Mills, and go away, please ! until I was almost beside mj'self. I thought 1 had killed her. I sprinkled water on lier face ; I went down on my knees ; I plucked at my hair ; I besought her forgiveness, and implored her to look up, which she finally did with a liorrified expression which I gradually soothed until it was only loving and her soft pretty cheek was lying against mine. "Is your heart mine still, dear Dora?" " 01^ yes ! Oh, yes ! it's all yours. Oh, don't be dreadful.'" " My dearest love, the crust well earned " "Oh, yes; but I don't want to hear any more about crusts. And after we are married, Jip must have his mutton chop every day at twelve or he'll die." I was charmed with her childish, winning way, and I fondly explained to her tliat Jip should have his mutton chop with his accustomed regularity. Time })assed on and Dora and I were married. I doubt whether two young birds could have known less about housekeeping than I and my pretty Dora did. We had a servant of course. She kept house for us. And an awful time of it w^e had with Mary Ann. She was the cause of our first little quarrel. " My dearest life," I said one day to Dora, " do you think that Mary Ann has any idea of time ? "' "Why, Doady?" " Because, my love, it is five, and we were to have dined at four. Don't you think, my dear, it would be better for you to remonstrate with Mary Ann ? " " Oh, no, please ! I couldn't, Doady ! " "Why not, my love?" " Oh, because I'm such a little goose, and she knows I am ! " I thought this sentiment so incompatible with the AND IMPEIiSOXATIONS. 31 establislmient of any system of check upon Mary Ann tliat I frowned a little. " My precious wife, we must be serious sometimes. Come sit down on this chair close beside me. Now let us talk sensibly. You know, my dear, it is not exactly comfortable to have to go out without one's dinner. Now is it? " " N-u-n-no ! " " My love, how you tremble ! " " Because I know you are going to scold ! '* '' My sweet, I am only going to reason ! " " Oh, but reasoning is worse than scolding ! I didn't marry to be reasoned with. If you meant to reason with such a poor little creature as I, you ought have told me so, you cruel boy ! " '•' Dora, my darling ! " ''No, lam not your darling. Because you must be sorry you married me, or else you wouldn't reason with me ! " '* Now, my own Dora, you are childisli and are talk- ing nonsense. You must remember, I am sure, that I was obliged to go out yesterday when dinner was half over; and that the day before, I was made quite ill by being obliged to eat underdone veal in a hurry ; to-day, I don't dine at all, and I am afraid to say how long we waited for breakfast. I don't mean to reproach you, my dear, but this is not comfortable." " Oh, you cruel, cruel boy, to say I am a disagree- able wife I" "Now, my dear Dora, you must know that I never said that ! " " You said I wasn't comfortable ! " "I said the housekeeping was not comfortable ! " "It's exactly the same thing! and I wonder, I do, at your making such ungrateful speeches. When you know that the other day when 3'OU said you would like a little bit of fish, I went out myself, miles and miles, and ordered it just to surprise you." "And it was very kind of you, my own darling; and I felt it so much, that I wouldn't on any account 32 HEADINGS, RECITATIONS, have mentioned tliat you bought a salmon, which was too much for two, and that you paid one pound six, wliich is more than we can afford." '^You enjoyed it very much, and you said I was a mouse." "And ril say so again, my love, a thousand times ! " I said it a thousand times and went on saying it, until Dora was comforted and once more smiled upon me with those beautiful eyes. "I am very sorry for all this, Doad}^" said Dora, at last. " Will vou call mc a name J want you to call me ? " "What is it, my love?" "It's a stupid name, — child-wife. When you are going to be angry with me, say to yourself, ' It's only my child-wife.' When I am very disa})point- ing, sa}', ' I knew a long time ago that she would make but a child-wife.' When you miss what you would like me to be, and what I should like to be, and what I think I never can be, sa}-, ' Still my foolish child- wife loves me.' For indeed, I do, Doady." I invoke the innocent figure I so dearly loved to come out of the mists and shadows of the past, and to turn its gentle head towards me once again, and to bear witness that it was made happy by what I answered. — Charles Dickens. HIAWATHA'S WOOING. {Prize Selection, at the North Mo. State Normal, June, 1886.) " As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman, Though she bends him, she obe3'S him. Though she draws him, yet she follows, Useless each without the other." AND IMPERSONATIONS. 33 Thus my youthful Hiawatha Said within himself and pondered, Listless, longing, hoping, fearing, Dreaming still of Minnehaha, Of the lovely Laughing Water, In the land of the Dakotas. *' Wed a maiden of your people," Warning spake the old Nokomis, " Go not eastward, go not westward, For a stranger whom we know not ! Like a fire upon the hearthstone Is a neighbor's homely daughter, Like the starliglit or the moonlight Is the handsomest of strangers ! " Thus dissuading spake Nokomis, And my Hiawatha answered Only this : '' Dear old Nokomis, Very pleasant is the firelight But I like the starlight better, Better do I like the moonlight ! " Gravely, then, said old Nokomis: *^ Bring not here an idle maiden. Bring not here a useless woman." Smiling answered Hiawatha, " In the land of the Dakotas Lives the Arrow-maker's daughter Minnehaha — Laughing Water, I will bring her to your wigwam, She shall run upon your errands, Be your starlight, moonlight, firelight, Be the sunlight of my people." Thus departed Hiawatha To the land of the Dakotas, Striding over moor and meadow Through interminable forests Till he heard the cataract's laughter. 34 iiJCADIXGS, IlECirATIONS, Heard llie Falls of AJinuclialia Calling t(3 him llirougli the silence, " Welcome, welcome, Hiawatha, Hiawatha!" On the outskirts of the forest, 'Twixt the shadow and the sunshine, Herds of fallow deer were feeding, But they saw not Hiawatha. To his bow and arrow whispered, " Fail not, swerve not ! " Sent it singing on its errand To tlie red heart of the roe-buck, Threw the deer across his shoulder. And sped forward without pausing. At the doorwa}' of his wigwam, Sat the ancient Arrow-maker. At his side in all her beauty Sat the lovely Minnehaha. Of the past the old man's thoughts were, But the maiden's of the future. He was thinking as he sat there, Of the days when with such arrows He had struck the deer and bison Shot the wild-goose flying southward, She was thinking of a hunter. From another tribe and country. Who one morning in the spring-time Came to buy her father's arrows, Would he come again for arrows To the Falls of Minnehaha? Through their thouglits they heard a footstep, Heard a rustling in the branches, And with glowing check and forehead, Hiawatha stood before tliem. Strnight tlie ancient Arrow-maker Bade liiin enter at the doorwa}', Saving as he rose to meet him, "Hiawatha, von ai-c welcome." AND IMPERSONATIONS. 35 At the feet of Laughing Water Hiawatha laid his burden, And the maiden looked up at him, Said with gentle look and accent, " You are welcome, Hiawatha." Then the lovely Laughing Water Listened while the guest was speaking Yea as in a dream she listened To the words of Hiawatha, As he told of old Nokomis Who had nursed him in his childhood, As he told of his companions In the pleasant land and peaceful. *' That this peace may last forever, And our hearts be more united. Give me as my wife this maiden, Minnehaha — Laughing Water." " Yes — if Minnehaha wishes. Let your heart speak, Minnehaha." Then the lovely Laughing Water Said, and blushed to say it, " I will follow you, my husband." This was Hiawatha's wooing. Thus it was he won the daughter Of the tribe of the Dokotas. From the wigwam he departed Leading with him Laughing Water. Left the old man standing lonely At the doorway of his wigwam. While the Falls of Minnehaha Called unto them from the distance Crjdng to them from afar off — "Fare-thee-well, O Minnehaha ! " Pleasant was the journey liomeward. All the traveling winds went with them, All tlie stars of night watched o'er them, And the I'abbit and the squirrel. 30 i:ii:ADiyGS, recitations, Scainpeied from the path before them Peeping, pee[)iiig from their burrows Watched with curious eyes the lovers. From the sky the sun benignant Looked upon them through the branches, Saying to them,"oli, my children, Love is sunshine, liate is shadow, Rule by love, O Hiawatha." From the sky the moon looked at them. Filled the mystic lodge with splendors* Whispered to them, '^Oh, my children, Day is restless, night is quiet, Man imperious, woman feeble, Rule by patience, Laughing Water." Pleasant was the journey homeward, All the birds sang loud and sweetly Songs of happiness and hearts-ease. Sang the bobolink from tlie meadow, " Happy are you, Hiawatha Having such a wife to love you, Happy are you, Minnehaha, Having such a noble husband." Longfellow, THE FAMINE. Oh, the long and dreary winter ! Oh, the cold and cruel winter ! Ever thicker, thicker, thicker Froze the ice on lake and river ; Ever deeper, deei)er, deeper Fell the snow o'er all the landscape. Hiirdly from liis buried wigwam Could the luinter force a passage. Vainly walked lie through the forest, Sought for bird or beast and found none, AND IMPEliSOXATIONS. 37 Siiw 110 track of cleer or rabbit, In the ghastly gleaming forest Fell, and could not rise for weakness, Perislied there from cold and hunger. Oh, the famine and the fever ! Oh, the wasting of the famine ! Oh, the blasting of the fever ! All the earth was sick and famished ; All tlie air and sky wei'e hungry. Into Iliawatlia's wigwam Came two other guests, as silent As tlie giiosts were, and as gloomy; Sat there without word of welcome, In the seat of Laughing Water ; Looked with haggard eyes and hollow, At the face of Laugliing Water. And tlie foremost said : *' Behold me ! I am Famine, Bukadawin ! " And tlie other said : " Behold me ! I am Fever, Ahkosewin ! " And tlie lovely Minnehaha Shuddered as they looked upon her. Lay down on her bed in silence. Hid her face, but made no answer. Lay there trembling, freezing, burning At the fearful words they uttered. Forth into the empty forest Rushed the maddened Hiawatha, On his brow the sweat of anguish Started, but it froze and fell not, And he cried with face uplifted, In that bitter hour of anguish, " Gitche Manito, the Mighty ! Give your children food, O Father! Give us food or we must perish ! Give me food for Minnehaha, For my dying Minnehaha ! " Through the far resounding forest 38 HEADINGS, liECirATIONSy Through the forest vast and vacant, Kang that cry of desolation, But there came no other answer, Than the echo of his crying, " Minneliaha ! Minnehaha ! " In the wigwam with Nokomis, And the gloomy guests that watched her, She was lying, the beloved. She the dying Minnehaha. " Hark ! " she said, " 1 hear a rushing, Hear a rop.ring imd a rushing. Hear the Falls of Minnehaha Calling to me from the distance ! " " No, my child ! " said old Nokomis, *''Tis the night wind in the pine trees!" " Lock ! " she said, " I ste my father Standing lonely at his doorway, Beckoniug to me from his wigwam ! " " No, my child," said old Nokomis, *' 'Tis the smoke that waves and beckons I " "Ah! " she said, ''the eyes of Pauguk Glare upon me in the darkness, I can feel his ic}^ lingers Clasping mine amid the darkness I Hiawatha ! Hiawatha ! " And the desolate Hiawatha, Far away among the mounttiins, Heard tliat sudden cry of anguish. Heard tiie voice of Minnehaha Calling to him from the distance, "Hiawatiia! Hiawatlia ! " Homeward hurried Hiawatha, Empty-handed — heavy-liearted, ' Heard Nokomis moaning, wailing; " Would that I liad perislied for you, Would tliat I weie dead as you are, Wahonowin I Wahonowin ! " And lie rushed into the wigwam. AND IMPERSOyATIONS. 39 Saw his lovely Minnehaha Lying dead and cold before hiin. And his buisting lieait within him Uttered snch a cry of anguish That the forest moaned and shuddered. Then lie sat down still a^id speechless, At the feet of Minnehaha, At those willing feet that never More would lightly run to meet him Never more would liglitly follow. As in a swoon lie sat there, Speechless, motionless, unconscious Of the daylight or the darkness. Then they buried Minnehaha ; In the snow a grave they made her, Underneath the moaning hemlocks. Wrapped her in lier lobes of ermine, Covered her with snow-like ermine. *^ Farewell ! '' said he, " Minnehaha; ' Farewell, O my Laughing Water ! All my heart is buried with you All my thoughts go onward with you I Come not back again to suffer Where the Famine and the Fever Wear the heart and waste the body. Soon my task will be completed, Soon 3-0 ur footsteps I shall follow To the Islands of the Blessed, To the Land of the Hereafter." Longfellow, THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. O, dear ! I'se so dreff ul tired, been washin' so hard mose all day ; S'pect these tlose had better be ironed, hope mamma '11 keep Freddie away. 40 READINGS, ItECITATIONS, He bovers me so, and 'H wake Lottie, 'fore it's time to take her up. Then she kies and kies so naughty, I dives her some soofsin syrup. Guess Dollie's tuttin' her toofies, tause she kies so mose ever day ; I'll buy her a wubber to bite on, I'se dot free cents for tlie pay. I must dit somebody's to hep me, I'se dot so much works for to do ! Dollie must have two or free dresses, and a cloak made " a la Watteau." Guess its about time to dit dinner, tause Lottie '11 want somesiii to eat ; My sakes ! I mose tut my fmner, tryin' to slice that cold meat. I'll borrow some zerves of my mamma, 'tause her's dot lots of 'em I know, She teeps 'em .up high in the tloset, I heard her tell B'io-et so. o I detlare \ this house does look awful ; I wonder what mamma will say 'Bout tlie water T 'pilled on the tarpet, when Fse taten' tlie tubs away. B'ess me ! if Lottie hain't wakin', and kien and kien to be taked ; And I hain't dot dinner ready, the tookies ain't more'u half baked. O, dear! this world's full of trouble, and baby's as cross as a bear With a sore head ; and ray life is chuck full of sorrer and tarcc Tum to your muzzer, you dear 'ittle wose-bud, you're sweeter than whole lots of pinks. Be a dood diil now and keep very quiet and muzzer will sing " Cap'n Jinks." AND IMPERSONATIONS. 41 THE PRESENT AGE. . {Prize Declamation^ May^ ISUO, N. Mo. State Normal.) The Present Age. In those brief words wliat a world of thought is comprehended ! VVliat infinite movements I What joys and sorrows ! What hope and despair I What faith and doubt! What silent grief and loud lament! What fierce conflicts and subtle schemes of policy! What private ami public revolutions ! In the period through which many of us have passed, what thrones have been shaken ! What hearts have bled ! What millions have been butchered by tlieir fellow men! What liopes of pliilanthropy have been blighted ! At the same time what magnificent enterprises have been achieved ! What new provinces won to science and art! What rights and liberties secured to nations! Aye — it is a privilege to Inive lived in an age so stirring, so eventful ! It is an age never to be forgotten. Its voice of warning and encourage- ment is never to die. Its impression on history is indelible. Amid its events tlie American Revolution — the first distinct, solemn assertion of the rights of men^ — and the French Revolution — that volcanic force, which shook the earth to its very centre — are never to pass from men's minds. Over this age the night will indeed gather more and more as time rolls away ; but in that night two forms will appear. Washing- ton and Napoleon ! TlTe one a lurid meteor, the other a benign, serene, and undecaying star. Another American name will appear in history. Your Franklin ; and the kite which brought light- ning from heaven, will be seen sailing in the clouds by remote posterity when the city where lie dwelt may be known on]y by its ruins. 42 HEADINGS, RECITATIONS, There is, however, something greater in the age than its greatest men ; it is the appearance of a new power in the world, the appearance of the multitude on the stage, where as 3'et the few have acted their parts alone. This influence is to endure to the end of time. What more of the present is to survive? Perliaps much of whicli we now take no note. The glory of an age is often hidden from itself. Perliaps some word has been spoken in our day which we have not deigned to hear, but which is to grow clearer and louder through all ages. Perhaps some silent thinker among us is at work in his closet, whose name is to fill the earth. Perhaps there sleeps in his cradle some reformer who is to move the church, and the world ; who is to open a new era in history, who is to fire the human soul with new hope and new daring. What else is to survive the age ? That which the age has little thouglit of, but which is living in us all; I mean the soul, the immortal Spirit ! Of this, all ages are the unfolding:,, and it is greater than all. We must not feel in the contemplation of the vast movements in our own and former times, as if we ourselves were nothing. I repeat it, we are greater than all. We are to survive our age, to comprehend it, and to pronounce its sentence. — W. E. Channing, MR. HORNER ON GRUMBLE CORNER. I knew a man and his name was Horner, Who used to live on Grumble Corner ; Grumble Corner in Cross Patch Town, And he never was seen without a frown. He grumbled at this ; he grumbled at that; He growled at the dog ; he growled at the cat ; He grumbled at morning; he grumbled at night ; And to grumble and growl was his cliief delight. AND IMPEIiSONATIONS. 43 He grumbled so much at liis wife thsit she Began to grumble as well as he ; And all the children wherever they went, Reflected their parents' discontent. If the sky was dark and betokened rain, Then Mr. Horner was sure to complain ; And if there was never a cloud about, He'd grumble because of a threatened drought His meals were never to suit his taste ; He grumbled at having to eat in haste ; The bread was poor, or the meat was tough, Or else he hadn't had half enough. No matter how hard his wife might try To please her liusband, with scornful eye He'd look around, and then, with a scowl At something or otiier begin to growl. One day as I loitered along the street. My old acquaintance I chanced to meet. Whose face was witliout the look of care And the ugly frown that it used to wear. *^ I may be mistaken, perhaps," I said. As, after saluting, 1 turned my head ; *' l>ut it is, and it isn't, the Mr. Horner Who lived for so long on Grumble Corner!" 1 met him next day, and I met him again. In melting weather, in pouring rain. When stocks were up and when stocks were down ; Hut a smile somehow had replaced the frown. It puzzled me much; and so one day I seized his hand in a friendly way. And said : " Mr. Horner, I'd like to know What can have happened to change you so?" He laughed a laugh that was good to hear. For it told of a conscience calm and clear. And lie said, with none of the old-time drawl: "Why, I've changed my residence, tliat is all!" 41 READINGS, RECITATIONS, "Changed your residence!'" "Yes," said Horner, "It wasn't healthy on (jrunible Corner, And so I moved : 'twas a change complete, And you'll find me now on Thanksgiving Street!" Now, every day, as I move along The streets so filled with the busy throng, I watch each face and can always tell Where men and women and children dwell ; And many a discontented mourner Is spending his days on Grumble Corner, Sour and sad, whom I long to entreat To take a house on Thanksgiving Street. New York Independent. " FLIGHT OF THE ANGEL GABRIEL," Conceive, if you can, the splendors that must have burst upon the eye of that fair Intelligence, as he floats off from the Heavenly World, and directs his flight toward the earth. On he speeds, through suns and systems, and starry groups, while constellation after constellation rises rapidly around him every- where, greeting at every stage new glories, that call forth new praises to Him who gave to his mighty pin- ions their power. On the right he beholds a grand star system, in form like unto a lily, glittering with the dew of heaven ; on the left, another grand cluster stands out against the black background of the sky, like a vast pillar, on whose summit the light of the " Beautiful Land " is i)laying. Anotlier still is seen, in form like unto a rose, as though blooming in the garden of God ; while others still, resemble goblets, sparkling to the brim with celestial light. On, he speeds, while suns and systems blaze up in wild splen- dor, then I'ecede into the awful depths behind him. At length one great, grand cluster appears, in form AND IMPERSONATIONS. 45 like unto a rincf, as thougli made of the finger of Deity — 'tis ihe Milky Way, to which our sun belongs. He speeds toward it, and passes in among its con- stellations. To the north lie beholds Cassiopeia, on her five- starred throne ; farther south great Orion appears with his blazon belt and Sirius burning in his awful lustre. Not far off the Pleiades appear, glittering with su[)ernal splendor, like a breast-plate on the bosom of Deity — the Urim and Thuinmim of the Eter- nal ! Far to the south the Southern Cross appears, its blood-red stars typical of the blood shed upon another cross 18 centuries ago. At length a brilliant star catches his eye. 'Tis our sun ! Hg speeds to- ward it, and passes in among tlie planetary bodies. First come Neptune and Uranus, then Saturn with his many moons, and glittering ring sj'stems. Then he beholds great Jupiter — great Titan of the sky ! and the little red planet Mars. Close to the sun the little sparklers, Mercttry and Vulcan, appear, and Venus, quivering in the ambient air, till at length one little blue star catches his eye — 'tis our earth. He speeds toward it ; hovers 'round it for a moment, like a humming-bird 'round a flower — dips into its blue atmosphere : and alights at the feet of the as- tonished Daniel at tlie liour of the evening oblation ! Beloved, such may be life among the stars ! If so, may such life be yours and mine. — Prof. Ferguson. BABY. Where did you come from, baby dear? Out of the everywhere into the here. Where did you get those eyes so blue ? Out of the sky as I came through. What makes the light in them sparkle and spin ? Some of the starry spikes left in. 46 HEADINGS, UECITATIONS, Where did you get that little tear ? I found it waiting when I got here. What makes your forehead so smooth and high ? A soft hand stroked it as I went by. What makes your clieeks like a warm wliite rose ? I saw some tiling better than any one knows. Whence that tliree-cornered smile of bliss? Three ancjels ^^\(i me at once a kiss. Where did you ofet tliis pearly ear? God spoke and it came out to liear. Where did you get those arms and hands? Love made itself into bonds and bands. Feet, wlience did you come, you darling things? From the same box as the cherubs' wings. How did they all just come to be you? God thought about me, and so I grew. But how did you come to us, you dear ? God thought about you, and so I am here. MacDonald. NOTHING TO WEAR. Miss Flora McFlimsy of Madison Square, Has made three separate journeys to Paris, And her father assures me each time she was there That she and lier friend, Mrs. Harris, Spent six consecutive weeks without stopping In one continuous round of sliopping. Sh()])ping alone and sliopping together, At all hours of the dn — '* I wouldn't wear that for the whole of creation I " ** Why not? 'Tis lovely as can be." " Yes, but dear me, that lean Sophmuia Slucknp AND IMPEliSONATIONS. 49 Has one just like it, and I won't appear Dressed like a chit of sixteen." " Then that splendid purple, that sweet mazarin." " Which most of all isn't fit to be seen," Said the lady, becoming excited and Hushed. " Then wear," I exclaimed in a tone which quite crushed Opposition, "that gorgeous toilet which you sported In Paris last spring at the grand presentation When you quite turned the heads of the nation." " I have worn it three times at the least calculation, And that with the rest of my dresses is ripped up." Here I ripped out something, perhaps rather rash. Quite innocent though, — but to use an expression More striking than classic, — It settled my hash. And proved very soon the last act of our session. *' I wonder the ceiling doesn't fall down And crush you, oh, you men have no feeling ; You selfish, unnatural, illiberal creatures, Who set yourselves up for patterns and preachers. I have told you and shown you I've nothing to wear, And its perfectly plain, you not only don't care But you do not believe me, — here the nose went still higher. I suppose if you dared, sir, you'd call me a liar. Our engagement is ended, sir, yes, on the spot, You're a brute and a monster, and — I don't know what." I mildly suggested the words, Hottentot, Pickpocket and cannibal — Tartar and thief, As gentle expletives that might bring relief. But this only proved as spark to the powder, And the storm I had raised came faster and louder. It blew and it rained, thundered, lightened and hailed Interjections, verbs, pronouns, till language quite failed 4 50 Ji /^'- 1 J> J V r; ,s, liEClT. I TIONS, To express the abusive, and then its arrears, Were broiicrlit u[) all at op.ce by a torrent of tears. Well, I felt for the lad^s and 1 felt for my liar, And without going through the form of a bow. Found myself in the entry 1 scarcely know how, On doorstep and sidewalk, past lam})-post and square, At home and upstairs in my own easy-chair. Poked my feet into slippers, m}^ lire into blaze. And said to myself as I lit my cigar, *' Supposing a man had the wealth of a czar Of the Russias to boot, could he ever be happy Or have rauch to spare. If he married a woman with nothing to wear?" Oh, ladies, dear ladies, the next sunny day, Just trundle your hoops out of Broadwaj-, From its whirl and its bustle, its fashion and pride, Its temples of trade towering higli on each side. To the alleys and lanes where misfortune and guilt, Their children have gathered, their hovels have built; Where hunger and vice like twin beasts of prey, Have hunted their victims to gloom and despair. Raise the rich dainty dress ai^.d the fine, broidered skirt Pick your delicate wav through dampness and dirt, Grope through the dark dens, climb the rickety stair To the garret, Avhere wretches, the young and tlie old, Half-starved and half-naked lie crouched from the cold. See those poor ])inched limbs, those frost-bitten feet, All bleeding and bruised from the stones of the street. Hear the sharp cry of childhood — the deep groans that swell From the poor dying creatures that writhe on the flooi'. Hear the curses that sound like the echoes of hell, As you sicken and shudder and fly from the door. Then liome to your wardrobes, and say, if you dare, Spoiled children of fashion, you've nothing to wear. And oh, if iiMchance tluMv should be a sphere. Where all is i.nulc right thai so puzzles us here. AND IMrEli.SOyATION.i. 51 Where the glare and the glitter and tinsel of time Fade and die in the light of that region sublime. Where the soul, disenchanted of flesh and of sense, Unscreened b}^ its trappings and shows and pretense, ]Miist be clothed for the life and the service above With purity, truth, faith, meekness, and love, Oh, daughters of earth, foolish virgins, beware Lest in that upper realm, you've nothing to wear. Butler, THE LITTLE SCHEHEREZADE. I wantsh to tell you some stories ! Pull one of your ears down — so ! Don't smoke in befront of my face, pa, I'll sit on this clicket — down low. There once was a beautiful p'incess — I'm too low enough ; 3-ou can't hear. I'll climb up a-top on j-our shoulder, And whisper it into your ear. This p'incess kept sleeping and sleeping Till somebody gave lier a kiss That woke her ; for she was enchanted !* She'd waited wliole years just for this. Let me see !— Oh — This beautiful p'incess- She wasn't but 'bout big as me, — This ain't the bess' p'ace to tell stories Hop me down, and le's sit on your knee. Ain't it fun ? And it rides just as easy — Wliat's that? " Better stick to my text? " 'Tain't sermons I—it's stories ! and papa, I — kind of — can't think — what comes next ! 62 UEADIMiS, RECITATIONS, " Don't believe I had any stories ? " I had — suts a nice one ! but now I shaH just let you tell your own stories ! Shan't tell you a single spec how The p'incess grew up to a woman, — I thought you'd be soUy ! don't cly ! Next time you'll be patient and listen — My dollies are calling — Good-bye ! THE DAY OF PEACE. Though at last our tears are banished, And our garners are replenished, Sixteen years have come and vanished Since the nation's long roll beat , When from farm and town and village, Leaving business, art and tillage, Forth to scenes of strife and pillage Trod our armies' fateful feet. Four long years of fiercest fighting, Only demons' eyes delighting, And a bloody record writing, Left us starved and sick and sore. Four long years of wild disorder. Spreading death from coast to border. Brought at last the welcome order, " Pence ! Stack arms ! we war no more I " Other years of dark suspicion. While sweet Peace beheld her mission Failing of its fair fruition, And the land was cold and dead ; Years of jarring claims and races. Hardened hearts and darkened faces, Vacant hearths and desolate places. Homes from which all hope had fled. AND IMPERSONATIONS. 53 Long tlie clouds so grim and leaden All ilie face of nature deaden, Till the dawn begins to redden Sio-ualino: the day to all, Then a breeze of better feehng Freer trust and honest dealing, Sweeps across the sky, revealing Spaces through the gloomy pall. From the depths so pure and holy Come the star-beams, faintly, slowly, Joyful gleams to high and lowly — Thus our long lost stars return. Slowly works the gracious planner, Till upon our blessed banner, In the old accustomed manner All its glories shine and burn. Peace, the giver of great blessing. Now, our length and breadth possessing, Full of comfort and caressing Smiles from out the sky a_t lasty States united and co-equal In their olden accents speak well Of a bright and happy sequel To the story of the past. Past at length the nation's quarrel, War has taught its wholesome moral, Foemen meet to twine the laurel For the heroes whom they fought. Past the strife of race and color. Lines of passion, growing duller. Fade before the freer, fuller. Better ways that God has wrought. Sad was war, but sweet our peace is ; Blest is sorrow when it ceases ; With our hope our strength increases, 54 BEADING S, RECITATIONS, And anew our race we run, Sections tending to each other, Just as brother grows to brother, When the passions sink and smother, And the day of strife is done. Northland, Southland, Eastland, Westland, None the worst, and none the best land, All together form the best land, Fused in war's fierce furnace heat. Never more shall fate divide us. Ne'er again the furies ride us. Nor can any ill betide us. While the Union's heart shall beat. Oh, if peace could but restore us, To this banner floating o'er us. Brothers who have gone before us, Whom to-day we meet to mourn 1 But they see with clearer vision. In tlieir far-off homes elysian. And partake of our fruition. To a new existence born. Nevermore in strife contending, From the heaven above us bending. While our praise and prayer ascending Tell them they are not forgot. Joyfully the}^ now discover That the white-robed angels hover All their resting places over. Hallowing each sacred spot. Nevermore the gallant legions. Yonder in tlie starry regions, Strive for this or that allegiance. All with them is peace and love. We, as they, past our defilement. Guiltless now of vain revilement. Find at last our reconcilement; Peace is here, as there above. AND IMPERSONATIONS, 55 Let us, tlieii, tread softly, lightly, And with g.arlands gleaiinng brightly, Make the resting places sightly Of our heroes 'ueath the sod. All were ours, and all together, Through the battles' bitter weather, Loosed for us tlieir human tether ; All together went to God. Let us fit our new condition, So that never false ambition Shall prevail against our mission, Or disturb our high career ; And remember in our weeping. Though their bodies still are sleeping, That our faithful dead are keeping Watch above tlie living here. Ours the hopes of saints and sages, Ours to spread on history's pages Records that to future ages Show a people grand, sublime. Ours to tell the sweetest story. Ours to teach the truest glory. Till the wheeling world grows hoary. And we near the end of time. Thus our gay and gleaming garlands, Fairest fruits of near and far lands Tell to those who dwell in star lands, What is now and is to be. Thus our deeds to-day are showing How the breeze of peace is blowing, And a future beyond knowing, Waits the continent of the free. U. T, Willet. 56 HEADINGS, RECITATIONS, UNCROWNED AMONG THE NATIONS. She stands uncrowned among the nations ! Her sufferings have been unexampled and her patient endurance towers up among the facts that are pyramids in history. After driving the Danish viking into the seas, she has seen the Anglo-Norman robber wave his banner o'er the loveliest spots in her realm. But througli treachery and famine, through glory and disgrace, through persecution and death, she remains after a thousand years, the un- sullied Queen, upon whose bright escutcheon there is not a stain save the silver dropping of her own tears. She stands uncrowned among the nations, a weep- ing mother, whose only solace is wandering among the tombs of her children. She rests her wearied limlK Upside the sarcophagus of O'Connell — and ov'jr Ghisneviii cemetery spreads a glorious Irish iwiliglit. Above — the sun retiring after his long jouiJiey disrobes on the horizon's edge, and carelessly scatters liis garments of crimson, emerald and gold, upon the floor of heaven. The lovely queen of night glides forth upon the scene, and from her ebony sieve shakes whole myriads of stars. Below — the tall shal'ts of monumental granite throw their long shadows, like a canopy of black spears, over tlie little mounds at their feet, and the roses, and the lilies, and the blue forget-me-nots in their circling guard of sliam rocks, awake from their vesper sleep, re-open their petals, and telephone in odorous voices sweet greetings to their shining sisters blossoming in the infinite meadows of heaven. The soul of the Liber- ator liovers around the scene, and after paying the tribute of a bended knee to the Lady of his Love with a divine wand, he touches his skeleton body in AND IMPERSONATIONS. 57 its marble shroud, and forth from the fleshless lips come the true words he was so wont to use, " Hereditary bondmen, know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow." She stands uncrowned among the nations! The summer sunlight falls unheeded upon the curls of her golden hair, and the winter frost, unnoted, scat- ters his clusters of pearls upon her livery of mourn- ing. 13ut even amid the hail, the rain, and the storm, she finds it ecstasy to sit beside the window of John of Tuam and listen to the soft strains of her own harp as it responds in melodious voice to the touch of the fast withering fingers of the greatest of her living sons. And when the songs of her ancient bards in her own language as an accompaniment fall tremulously from his aged lips, a delirium of mem- ories crowd upon her and she vanishes in t^o the night. She stands uncrowned amongthe natioiis ! Kneel- ing on the green sward of Robert Emmet's grave and resting her head upon its unmarked headstone, she clasps her hands around it and in an agony of pra3^er, cries out, " O, my God, when shall his epitaph be written ? " At the early morning she is in Clare listening to Charles Stewart Parnell.-^ She sees at one end of the platform the Irish flag and at the other the American, She is not satisfied — clad in her royal robes, albeit of black, she ascends that platform and taking in one hand her own banner of green, and in the other the "Stars and Stripes," under which her exiled children find so secure a shelter, with her own deft fingers, she irrevocably intertwines them, and upon their dual folds, in letters of living light, she inscribes the prophetic device : " These together shall conquer." She stands uncrowned among the nations 1 Doff- ing her queenly garments, and in the attire of a felon, she sits beside Michael Davitt in his lonely prison cell. Twinine her arms about his neck with all a 58 HKADISr.S, IlKCITATIONS. niotlser'.s f* ndncss she sings to liim the Irish lulhibies of his babyhood, and in accents mournful but em- pliatic bids him be patient for God is just. She stanels uncrowned among the nations! The most beautiful type tlie world has ever seen, a mother of sons who liave influenced human thought and human action in every class and on every stage. As did Abraham of old, she has offered up to God, for seven hundred years, a holocaust of her children, though He, as yet, has never averted the sacrificial knife. She fashioned the brain of Burke, and silver- tipped the tongue of Grattan. She gave Wellington liis sword. Swift his pen, and Moore his lyre. From the superabundance of her jewels she presented Spain with O'Donnell, Austria with Nugent, France with Sarsfield, and America with Meagher. Yet with all her beauty and with all her intellect she stands alone and uncrowned among the nations. But when she is crowned, and the day is not far distant, the tiara that encircles her forehead will be all of diamonds ! Crowned with freedom, blessed with happiness ! God speed the day ! J, D, Finney. ADOWN THE FIELD TOGETHER. The blackbird pipes his solemn notes Tiuougli copse and dreamy hollow ; The air is fanned by myriad wings Of the brown low-flying swallow; As hand in hand, at twilight hour, In the hazy autumn weather, A lass and sun-brown harvester Stroll down the field together. All day he has bound the yellow sheaves With a patient hand and willing, For the wealth of his own new home is stored In the granary he is fdling ; AND IM'P]i:iiSONATIONS. 59 And all the gain or reward he asks, Is to know that through the heather A lad and lassie at set of sun, Shall roam the field together. What is it to happy hearts and young, That the sere, sad leaves are falling? They hear but the cheery voice of love To his sweetheart gently calling; And close as he bound the yellow sheaves In the gleaming Autumn weather, Sly Cupid binds their tender hearts With love's gold bands together. The field of stubble will soon grow brown The frosts will chill the meadows. Highland and lowland — garden and lawn Will fade in the deep'ning shadoAvs ; But, bright as the sun on a thousand hills, Will seem the Autumn weather When hand in hand to the dear old kirk They wend their way together. On and on tlio yeai'S shall roll, And sweeter grows love's story. Till head of biown, and head of gold Shall lo.y Hercules, the dog throws all iiis weight on the bits. If the gods help not our Roman he will be run away with by that Israelite. No, not yet, look ! Jove with us ! " If it were true that Messala had reached his utmost speed, the elTort was with effect. Slowly but cer- tainly he was beginning to forge ahead. His horses were running with their heads low down. Tiieir bodies appeared actually to skim the earth. How long could they keep the i)ace? It was but the commencement of the sixth round. On they dashed. As they neared the second goal, Ben-Hur turned in behind the Roman's car. The joy of the Messala faction reached its bound ; they screamed and howled. Esther scarcely breathed. Iras alone seemed glad. When the turn was com- pleted the two were abreast once more. As they wliirled by, Esther saw Ben-Hur's face again, and it was whiter than before. Ilderim leaned forwaid, and whispeied, "Saw you how clean the Arabs were, and fiesh? By the splendor of Jove, they have not been running: but now watch ! " *' Ben- Hur! Ben-Hur!'' shouted the blunt voices of all the factions but the Roman. "Speed the Jew; take the wall now." "On! loose the A rabs ! give them rein and scourge." " Let liim not have the turn on thee, now or never." At that moment Ben-Hur leaned forv/ard over his Arabs and gave tliem the reins. Out flew the many folded lash in his Iiand, over the backs of the startlctl steeds, it writhed and hissed and ]iis>e«i .ind writhed again and again, and though it fell not, there were both sting and menace in its quick report. And instantly the Arabs answered with a leap that landed them along side the Roman car. MessaLi dared not look to see what the awakening portended. Above the noises of the race, there was but on 3 G 82 READINGS, IIECITATIONS, voice, and that was Ben-Hur's as he called to the gallant Arabs." "On, A'^^air! On, Rigel ! what, Antares, dost thou linger now? Good horse — Oho, Aldebaran ! I liear them singing in the teiits. 1 hear tlie children singing, and the women singing of the stars, of Atair, Antares, Rigel, Aldebaran, victory, victory! and the song will never end. AVell done! Home to-morrow, under the black tent! Home! On, Antares! Tiie tribe is waitinc: for us and the master is waiting? ! 'Tis done ! 'Tis done ! Ha, ha ! Steady ! Tlie work is done — so ho! Rest!" Beu-Hur turns the first goal. And the race was won ! — Gen, Leiv Wallace. WHAT MAKES THE GRASSES GROW? I closed my book, for nature's book Was opening that day ; And witii a weary brain I took IMy hat, and wandered toward the brook That ill the meadow hiy, And tliere beside the tiny tide, I found a child ai play. Prone on tlie sward, its little toes Wronght dimples in the sand. Its cheeks were fairer than the rose, I heard it murmur, " Mamma knows. But I not understand." While all unharmed a dainty blade Of grass was in its hand. " Wiiat wonldst thou know, my little one?" Said 1 with bearing wise ; For I, who thought to weigh the sun, And trace the course where planets run, And grasp their mysteries. Unto a baby's cjuestionings Couhl sure)}' m.ike replies. AND IMPERSONATIONS. S3 " What wouldst thou know ? " again I said, And gently bowing low I stroked its lialf-nplifted head. With chubby hand it grasped the blade And answered: " Oo will know ; For oo has whixers on oo face, What makes the grasses grow? '* *' Last fall," I said, "a grass-seed fell To the earth and went to sleep. All winter it slept in its cozy cell Till spring came tapping upon its shell ; Then it stin'ed and tried to peep With its little green eye, right up to the sky, And then it gave a leap. " For the sun was warm, and the earth was fair. It felt the breezes blow. It turned its cheek to the soft, sweet air, And a current of life so rich and rare Came up from its roots below; It grew and kept growing; and that, my child, Is the reason the grasses grow.'' " Oo talks des like as if oo s'pose I's a baby, and I don't know 'Bout nuffin' ! But babies and every one knows That grasses don't think ; for thej only grows. My mamma has told me so. Wliat makes 'em start, an' get bigger an' bigger? What is it that makes 'em grow ? " How could I answer in words so plain That a baby could understand ? Ah, how could I answer my heart ! 'Twere vain To talk of the union of sun and rain In the rich and fruitful land ; For over them all was the mystery Of will and guiding hand. 84 liJ'^A DINGS, liECl TA TIONSy What could I gatlier from learning more Than was written so long ago? I heard the billows of science roar On the rocks of truth from the mystic shore; And humbly bowing low I answered alike the man and child ; " God makes the grasses grow." St, Nicholas, THE PLEASURES OF HOPE. At summer's eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye. Whose sunbright summit mingles with ihe sky? Why do those cliffs of sliadowy iint appear More sweet than all the landscaim smiling near? 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue. Thus, with